


Those Kinds Of Friends

by silver_etoile



Category: SKAM (Italy)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Coming Out, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, Jealousy, M/M, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2019-05-06
Packaged: 2020-02-26 23:42:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 34,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18727249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silver_etoile/pseuds/silver_etoile
Summary: Elia isn't sure what these new feelings are, especially these new feelings about Filippo Sava. In between keeping secrets from his friends and trying to figure things out, he doesn't know what's going to happen, but he thinks he wants to find out.





	Those Kinds Of Friends

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [tumblr](http://azozzoni.tumblr.com).

Elia wasn’t an idiot. He knew something was up if the way Nico had spent all of last night talking to him about Silvia was any indication. Silvia was pretty, he said. She was cute and smart and blonde. As if that was supposed to mean anything.

Silvia may have been blonde, but any attraction stopped there for Elia. She was also weirdly into the radio thing, beyond a normal level of interest. He wasn’t sure why Nico was so keen on talking her up, though he had a suspicion.

“There’s Silvia,” Nico said the next morning, and Elia didn’t miss the way Martino rolled his eyes next to him, as if he too was in on whatever this was.

Following Nico’s gaze, Elia made a face as he caught sight of Silvia with Eva and Eleonora, probably talking about makeup or boys or whatever it was girls talked about. He didn’t know. He tried never to ask his sister what she talked about with her friends. It wasn’t any of his business unless one of them thought he was hot. Then he’d want to know.

“There she is,” he agreed when it became clear Nico wanted an answer. He didn’t know what Nico wanted, but Elia wasn’t going to fuck Silvia. No thanks. He could do better.

“Ni, I need to get a book for my history essay,” Martino said, saving Elia from coming up with something else to say since Nico seemed to be waiting for him to declare his secret crush on Silvia or something. Nico looked only a little disappointed as Martino took his hand and tugged him away. “Come with me?”

At least someone saw the insanity in him and Silvia, Elia thought as Martino led Nico away, catching Nico’s, “Come on, Marti, they’d be adorable.”

“They’d be a disaster,” Martino replied before disappearing into the crowd and Elia couldn’t hear any more.

So they were trying to set him up with Silvia. It seemed insane. After all, Luchino was the one pining after her. Maybe they’d forgotten. Luca hadn’t said anything in months to the rest of the guys, but Elia’s messages were filled with questions on how to talk to her and discussing what she’d worn that day to school.

“Elia!”

Elia grimaced as he realized he’d been left alone by the guys, left alone for Eva to flag him over, and he joined the group reluctantly, wishing he had an excuse to leave. But he didn’t.

Eleonora was watching him carefully, eyes darting between him and Silvia, and he wondered if it was more than just Nico in on this.

“I hear Nico’s party was a bust,” Eva said, and Elia leaned back against the wall, bored as he shrugged.

“Not many people showed up.”

There definitely hadn’t been many hot girls, like Gio had promised him.

“So you didn’t hook up with anyone?” Eva asked, and Elia raised an eyebrow. It wasn’t a usual question for her to ask.

“Why?”

Eva opened her mouth to respond, but Silvia giggled beside her and she paused.

“If you didn’t find someone, I know who would,” Silvia said and Elia felt a cold chill. Maybe Silvia _did_ like him and all this was her idea. One glance at Ele and Eva soothed his worries, though, from the way they both looked confused. Silvia looked between them all as if the girls should know what she was talking about. Elia had no idea. “Filo.”

Eleonora laughed finally, looking relieved and shaking her head. “He was joking, Silvia.”

“Was he?” she asked and turned to Elia. “He said he’d fuck you in a heartbeat. Said you were hot.”

“Wait,” Elia said. “Who is Filo again?”

“He’s my brother,” Ele said, crossing her arms. “And he doesn’t actually want to fuck you.”

Elia knew he shouldn’t have been insulted by that, but he felt a twinge of annoyance. He was hot, thank you very much. Everyone should want to fuck him, guy or girl.

“I don’t remember him,” he said instead, nodding at Silvia. “What’s he look like?”

“Here,” Silvia said eagerly, pulling out her phone and bringing up a picture from Filippo’s Instagram. Elia took the phone, gazing down at Filippo. He did remember Filippo now as he took in the lip ring, the deep brown eyes, the bleached hair. He’d noticed Filo way back at Christmas, at that party at Marti’s house, but he hadn’t thought much of the guy Martino seemed to be such good friends with, the guy he’d never met before.

Elia didn’t say it out loud, but Filippo was hot, and he was a little disappointed when Silvia took the phone back. Had Filippo really said that? Or more importantly, had he meant it? Elia hadn’t told anyone about the feelings he’d been having, the questions percolating in the back of his mind the past few months, ever since Martino had come out, since he’d actually started to notice guys the same way he noticed girls.

He looked up to find Eleonora watching him, arms still crossed, cool eyes on his. “Do you have a problem with Filo saying that?” she asked, as if daring him to say something homophobic.

Elia shrugged. “He’s not lying. I am hot.” He flashed a smile at her, and she seemed to lower her hackles a bit.

“I think you’d be a cute couple,” Silvia went on, oblivious to Ele. “If you were gay.”

“Right,” Elia said slowly. If he was gay. If he actually worked up the courage to tell someone about these feelings, about the fact that he did find Filo attractive and he probably wouldn’t say no if Filo came on to him.

As it was, he didn’t say anything about it, casting his gaze around and relieved when he spotted Gio across the courtyard.

“Nice chatting with you ladies,” he said without excusing himself as he skirted away, heading for Gio and somewhere he could breathe. It was nice to know, he admitted to himself as he greeted Gio, that someone like Filippo was interested. Maybe he did have a shot.

“Were you talking to Silvia?” Gio asked curiously, glancing behind Elia, and Elia didn’t turn.

“She’s so weird,” he only said, but her words about Filo didn’t go away as Gio shrugged in response and changed the subject. He wasn’t sure they would.

*

Leaning against the wall, Elia watched Martino talking with Nico, the way Nico turned into Marti, reaching for his hand as if he didn’t even think about the gesture, even though they were surrounded by classmates. By now, most of them were used to it, used to Martino and Nico as a couple, and no one looked twice except the few assholes who seemed to have a problem with it. Gio was always on the lookout anyway.

“What are you frowning at?” Gio interrupted Elia’s thoughts, cuffing him on the shoulder as he arrived, and Elia blinked away from Martino. He hadn’t even realized he’d been frowning.

“Nothing,” he said quickly, glancing around for Luca, who couldn’t be far behind Gio.

He knew Gio wouldn’t believe him, turning the direction he’d been looking and spotting Martino leaning into Nico, laughing at something he said, shoving Nico back a step when Nico stole a kiss.

“Jealous?” Gio asked with a grin, and Elia scoffed. 

“Of Marti? Please.”

It was so easy to lie, so easy to pretend that he didn’t want what Martino had. Not Nico exactly, but someone to make out with at least, someone who smiled at Elia the way Nico smiled at Marti. Of course, no one could be as disgustingly in love as those two. Even Eva and Gio hadn’t come close last year. He didn’t need someone to be in love with. He liked his freedom—being able to kiss whoever he wanted. Not Silvia, no matter how much Nico or Gio suggested the idea.

The truth was that Elia didn’t have too many prospects, no matter what he told the guys. Maybe he’d hook up with a girl on occasion at a party, make out in the bathroom, get a quick blow job in an empty bedroom, but that was about it. He’d already lost out on Sofia to Gio, who always only said he was “working on it” when anyone asked.

“If you’re not jealous, you want to go to a radio party this weekend?” Gio asked, and Elia frowned for real this time.

“Since when are you into the radio?” At this rate, the radio was going to take every one of his friends. Martino and Nico already did a show, and now Gio?

“Sofia just invited me to the party,” Gio said, shrugging, glancing at Elia. “Silvia will be there.”

Elia’s eyebrows went up. “So?” He didn’t understand the sudden desperation to hook him up with Silvia from all of his friends. Did he seem that desperate? So what if he hadn’t hooked up with anyone all semester? That didn’t mean he had to jump on the first girl he saw. After all, he could do better than Silvia.

“So she’s cute,” Gio said, and Elia made a face as Martino and Nico came over, hands linked together, and he looked away from it.

“She’s also really uptight and never shuts up.”

“Thought you liked ‘em tight,” Gio said, laughing and elbowing him in the side, and Elia ignored him for once as Martino and Nico reached them. He didn’t need Nico (the apparent ringleader of this quest to get him and Silvia together) to hear that.

“What are you guys talking about?” Martino asked, perching against the stone wall, Nico beside him.

“Elia’s coming to the radio party,” Gio said, raising his eyebrows at Elia, as though he’d agreed to that at all.

“I didn’t say I would,” Elia protested.

“It’s going to be at Eleonora’s house,” Martino said, as though that was supposed to entice Elia. “She and Filo live alone, so plenty of beer and no parents.”

Filippo. Elia had been trying to forget him, forget what Silvia had told him last week. It wasn’t good for him to dwell on the idea that Filippo might be into him. Mostly because no one even knew about the confusing feelings he’d been having the last couple months.

They’d hit him like a train, a sudden realization that he found some guys attractive, as attractive as the girls he drooled over with Luca and Gio. Before Martino had come out, he hadn’t really considered guys as an option, just something he liked to look at.

Martino said he’d always known, on some level, that he was gay, that he simply hadn’t wanted to admit it to himself, but it wasn’t like that for Elia. He’d had no idea, and now he wasn’t sure what to do about it.

The logical answer was to tell someone, he supposed, not really listening as Gio asked Martino about their translation homework. Gio or Martino were the obvious choices, especially after everything they’d gone through with Marti in the fall. Elia just wasn’t sure what there was to tell. So he was attracted to guys? It wasn’t as if he’d ever kissed one or thought about giving a guy a blow job.

So he didn’t say anything, and he pushed away thoughts of Filippo for now as Luca finally joined them and the conversation turned to whose house they were going to after school instead. Filippo thinking he was hot meant nothing, he told himself as Martino’s house got volunteered for FIFA, and he shouldn’t let his imagination run away with itself. Not yet.

*

Elia was beginning to regret agreeing to this, to this party, trying to remember why he had in the first place as he stood with Luca in the corner of an unfamiliar apartment. How had they both become third wheels? Martino was off with Nico, talking with Eva, and Gio was flirting with Sofia by the bookcase. He had a beer in his hand but he wasn’t nearly tipsy enough to be enjoying himself.

He didn’t begrudge Gio and Martino their happiness, but when he was left alone with no one but Luca for company, he started to wonder where he was going wrong. 

“Silvia’s here,” Luca said, craning on his tiptoes to see over the crowd, and if it had been Nico or Gio who said it, Elia would have groaned, over their not-so-subtle set-up. He was pretty sure Silvia wasn’t into it either if the way she hadn’t even looked at him earlier was any indication.

Luca, on the other hand, still held a candle for the girl, though Elia couldn’t understand why.

“Go talk to her,” he said even though he’d be completely alone if Luca left him. He’d rather be alone than listen to Luca whine about Silvia, though. If Elia was going to hook up with anyone, it wasn’t going to be her. No matter what Nico said. He didn’t know how many times Nico had rbrought it up on the way over, despite Martino elbowing him.

“I can’t,” Luca said, shaking his head, eyebrows creased, concerned. “I don’t know what to say.”

“She’s just a girl, Luchi,” he said easily, cuffing his shoulder, but any other bad advice he might have given caught in his throat as a guy stepped into his field of vision, a tall guy with pale pink hair and a shiny lip ring Elia would have known anywhere. Not that he’d been stalking Filippo’s social media at all since Silvia had showed him that picture. Except he totally had. He’d definitely looked him up, though he’d stopped himself from following Filippo at least.

“Elia?” Luca asked when Elia followed Filippo’s path across the living room, disappearing into the kitchen.

“I’m gonna get another beer,” Elia said quickly even though his was half-full. “Just don’t say anything stupid to her.”

Luca’s expression fell as Elia left him, weaving through the people he didn’t know, the people he didn’t care to know, setting his bottle on a table before he reached the kitchen, hesitating at the doorway.

Filippo had his back to Elia, peering into the fridge, and Elia stopped his gaze from dropping. He wasn’t sure what he was doing, following Filippo. He wasn’t sure what he’d meant to do when Filippo finally straightened up and turned around, only momentarily surprised to find Elia behind him.

“Elia, right?” he said after a second when Elia just stood there like an idiot.

This was insane, Elia told himself. Had he expected something to happen just by showing up? Filippo barely knew him. A flippant comment on his looks to Silvia meant nothing. He probably hadn’t even meant it, but Elia was standing here, like it had.

“Yeah,” he said finally, nodding his head.

It had been a stupid thought, he told himself as Filippo leaned up against the counter and cracked open the bottle he’d taken from the fridge. Filippo didn’t seem nervous, eyeing Elia curiously instead. There was no reason why Filippo would be into him. After all, Filippo was older, more mature, openly gay. Whereas Elia hadn’t even admitted he might be into guys to his closest friends.

“Enjoying the party?” Filippo asked after a minute when Elia couldn’t think of anything else to say. Usually, he had plenty to say. Flirting with girls was no problem. Talking to guys was easy. But right now, it felt like every thought had fallen out of his brain.

Elia shrugged. “Not really,” he admitted truthfully, watching the way Filippo smiled slightly.

“Not enough hot girls for you? Silvia’s out there.”

Grimacing, Elia moved from the doorway, into the kitchen. “Why the fuck does everyone want to hook me up with Silvia?” He just didn’t understand it. Did they really think they would go well together?

Filippo’s eyebrow went up, and Elia looked away as Filippo ran his tongue over his bottom lip. He wondered how easy it would be to simply tell Filippo he was interested, to shuffle into his space and suggest having a joint on the balcony, away from everyone else at the party. With a girl, he might not have hesitated, but with Filo, it was different. He couldn’t just come out and say it.

“Not interested?” Filippo asked, taking a sip of his beer, eyes on Elia.

“Are you?” Elia asked, more sarcastic than he meant to, and he was relieved when Filippo laughed.

“I’m gay, so no,” he said simply. “She lacks certain features I find attractive.”

Elia hesitated, leaning against the counter too, hands curled around the edge as he watched Filippo. “What do you find attractive about guys?” he asked, trying to sound casual, not as if he really wanted to know. But he did. He wanted to know exactly what it was that made guys so different than girls. He’d thought about it a little, trying to figure out what had changed, why he suddenly felt the same pull towards guys he’d always had with hot girls.

Lifting his chin, Filippo’s eyes grazed over Elia’s face, and Elia swallowed slowly. He’d never felt like this, so nervous, as if what Filippo thought could change things. All the girls he’d dated, only a few had made him feel nervous, like he cared what they thought.

“The obvious,” Filippo said finally, shrugging. “Strong jaws, full lips, guys who aren’t afraid to take control. I like guys who know what they want.”

Elia looked away, at the tile floor. That wasn’t him, not right now. He didn’t know what he wanted, and even if he did, he had no idea how to get it.

“What are you doing in here?” Eleonora appeared in the doorway, an urgent look on her face, and Elia felt almost as if they’d been caught doing something they weren’t supposed to.

Filippo, on the other hand, shook his head simply. “Am I not even allowed to talk to your friends now, Ele? We’re not making out, just like I promised.”

Elia couldn’t help staring at Filippo. He’d promised not to kiss him?

Eleonora rolled her eyes. “You’re so annoying.”

“It’s my job,” Filippo replied as she left the kitchen, and Elia blinked after her.

“What did you promise?” he asked after a second, chancing a glance back at Filippo, who took another drink.

“She’s just paranoid I’m going to hit on her dumb friends. But don’t worry, Eli, I’m not going to make out with you. Unless you want to.” Filippo grinned around his bottle, and Elia felt his stomach clench. 

That was the problem. He thought maybe he did want to. Maybe he did want to finally kiss a guy and see if these feelings he was having were real. But Filippo wouldn’t. Filippo was joking.

It took him a second to realize Filippo was watching him.

“Do you want to?” he asked, and Elia stared, shaking his head quickly. 

“What? No. No, of course not.” 

He needed to find a girl, Elia thought, looking away from Filippo’s gaze. Any girl. Just a girl to make out with so he would stop thinking about what it might be like to kiss Filippo, with the stubble on his chin, his short, pink hair that Elia could slide his fingers into, the curve of his shoulders as Filippo would wrap his arms around Elia’s waist. He had to stop thinking about that. It would never happen. He shouldn’t have wanted it to happen.

What if he said yes, though? This might be his only chance. It wasn’t as if he spent a lot of time with Filippo. He hadn’t even seen him since the Christmas party. Or Filippo could be actually joking.

Looking away, Elia’s gaze fell on Martino and Nico by the far wall, on the other side of the party, foreheads pressed together, as if there was no one else in the room.

“This music is shit,” he said suddenly, turning back to Filippo, who didn’t seem interested in watching him anymore. “I can’t listen to it anymore.”

Filippo glanced at him. “I’ll make your excuse to Ele, not that she’ll care.”

Elia paused, reaching into his pocket, fingers closing around the joint he’d stashed there earlier. The days of locking themselves in bathrooms to get high at parties seemed behind them now that Marti had Nico and Gio had Sofia, but Elia always brought one just in case.

“I saw you had a balcony,” he said, turning the joint between his fingers and pulling it out. “I don’t think anyone would miss us for a few minutes.”

It was the smoothest he’d been all night, especially when Filippo laughed, setting his beer on the counter and shaking his head at Elia.

“You want to get high at my sister’s party?”

“You’re the one chaperoning a high school party.”

Filippo scoffed, leaning forward and plucking the joint from Elia’s fingers. “I’m not chaperoning anything.” He stepped away from the counter, and Elia couldn’t help smiling as he followed Filippo, out of the kitchen, skirting along the walls, unnoticed by anyone else as Filippo slid open the door to the balcony.

It was dark outside, no lights as Elia stepped in between the many potted plants blocking the view from inside.

“You like plants?” he asked as Filippo perched against the railing at the far corner, lighting the joint and taking a long drag. Elia watched the way he exhaled the smoke into the dark air.

“They’re Ele’s,” he replied, glancing at Elia as he moved to the railing next to him. “A manifestation of her need to take care of things.”

Elia wasn’t sure what that meant, but he took the joint Filippo held out to him. He needed the calming buzz settling deep in his lungs as he breathed it in. He needed to feel calmer than he had in the kitchen, as if he might do something stupid at any moment.

He wasn’t sure what it was, if it was just knowing what Filippo had said about him, the need to know if it was true or if he’d just been talking shit for Silvia’s sake and this idiotic set-up their friends had devised.

“So why are you at this party if you’re not chaperoning?”

Filippo shrugged, leaning over the balcony and gazing at the buildings in the distance. Elia’s house was somewhere to the west, one of those distant lights. His mom was probably already asleep, and he’d have to sneak in later so he wouldn’t get in trouble.

“I bought the beer. I deserve to drink some.” He glanced at Elia. “Why are you here if you don’t want to be?”

“I didn’t say that.” Elia sniffed, fingering the joint carefully.

Filippo shot him a look. “You spent the last ten minutes talking to me instead of hitting on that girl with the blue hair who’s been eyeing you all night.”

“She was?” Elia almost turned to look back inside, but at the moment, he didn’t care about the girl with the blue hair. He cared more that Filippo was laughing at him, shaking his head.

“You’re oblivious,” he said, smiling as he took back the joint, bringing it to his lips and pausing. “Would you even notice someone flirting?”

“Yes,” Elia replied, frowning. “Would you?”

Filippo paused, glancing back at him, and Elia froze. Shit. Had he been flirting with Filippo? Maybe not on purpose. Maybe on purpose. He didn’t know.

“You talked to Silvia,” Filippo said after a minute, as though remembering something, and Elia didn’t know what to say, eyebrows furrowing.

“What?”

“She told you what I said,” Filippo went on, and Elia had no idea how he knew that. Ele must have told him. Fuck. He was screwed. “You should know I was merely trying to convince her you had redeeming qualities other than setting puppets on fire.”

“That was—”

“Just because I said you were hot doesn’t mean I want to sleep with you.”

Elia opened his mouth, his heart somehow sinking simultaneously as annoyance coursed through him. “I don’t care,” he forced himself to say. “I’m not interested. I like girls.”

“The one you didn’t even notice watching you all night?” Filippo asked, and Elia didn’t have an answer for that. He turned to the railing, staring unseeingly out at the dark buildings. “Elia?”

Swallowing, Elia pushed back from the railing. “I should go make sure Luchino isn’t doing anything stupid,” he said instead of answering the question. “You can finish the weed.”

He didn’t wait for Filippo’s answer as he headed for the door and slid it open. Back inside, he let out a breath, shaking his head sharply. What had he been thinking? That someone like Filippo might actually be interested in him? Elia couldn’t even say it out loud yet, that maybe he did want to hook up with Filippo, who was good-looking and funny and definitely into guys.

He didn’t go after Luca, who was in deep conversation with Gio, and he didn’t go after the blue-haired girl, tugging his jacket closed as he headed for the door instead. Tonight just wasn’t his night, and he’d rather sulk alone rather than trying to pretend everything was fine with the boys. He’d forget about this by tomorrow, he told himself as he slipped out the front door. After all, he’d managed not to notice for seventeen years. What was a few more?

*

“Where’d you disappear to on Saturday?”

Elia looked up from his phone as Gio spoke, stuffing his hands in his pockets on the unusually chilly morning, weak sunlight pushing through the cloud cover overhead as they stood outside school.

“Had to get home before my mom noticed I was gone,” he lied. No one had been awake when he’d gotten home, sneaking up the stairs and inside without making any noise, flopping onto his bed and staring at the ceiling for what felt like hours. He hadn’t been able to forget about what Filippo had said, how simply he’d said he wasn’t interested.

Elia knew he shouldn’t have cared. He didn’t really know Filippo anyway. There had been no reason to get his hopes up that something might happen. He wouldn’t have known what to do if it had.

He was saved from Gio’s questioning look when Martino joined them, clapping Gio on the shoulder.

“Can I copy your Greek homework?” he asked, and Gio turned to him.

“You’re asking to copy from us, Marti? What were you doing all weekend?”

Elia didn’t need an answer as Martino’s cheeks went red and Gio shook his head, amused. 

“Jesus Christ. Yeah, take mine, but change it a bit.”

“Thank you,” Martino said gratefully as Gio dug his homework from his bag.

Elia shook his head. Of course Martino had been too distracted by Nico to do his homework. He was surprised they got anything done at all considering the way they were always together.

“Do you and Nico ever do anything separately?” he asked, not expecting the way Martino and Gio’s gazes both snapped to him, and maybe his tone had been a little too harsh, he realized.

“Don’t be jealous,” Gio said easily, shaking his shoulder while Martino frowned at him. “We can get you some too. What about Silvia?”

Annoyed, Elia shrugged Gio’s hand off. “Why the fuck is everyone so obsessed with Silvia all of a sudden? I don’t want to fuck her.”

He wasn’t jealous of Martino, and he wasn’t interested in Silvia either. He didn’t miss the glance Gio exchanged with Martino.

“Even Filippo was talking about her, like I need some guy I barely know in my business. I don’t want to hear her name again unless it’s that Luchino finally worked up the balls to talk to her.”

Gio and Martino didn’t reply for a minute as Elia watched them, waited for some kind of explanation of why everyone was so into this idea. Him and Silvia. The most annoying girl he knew. He might not have found it quite so annoying if he wasn’t interested in someone else, in someone who hadn’t even given him a second glance.

“Okay, we won’t talk about it anymore,” Gio agreed finally, and Martino nodded. “It was just a dumb idea. It’s our turn to help you hook up, right?”

“I don’t need help,” Elia replied, rolling his eyes, hiking up his bag. “I don’t need _Love Wizard_ advice.”

“Everyone needs Love Wizard advice,” Gio said knowingly, and Elia knew he shouldn’t be so annoyed at all of this. It was going to make them suspicious, like they’d been of Martino last year. He didn’t want to go through that again.

“Save it for Luchi who could really use it,” he said, flashing Gio a smile instead. “I’ve got plenty of prospects.”

It wasn’t exactly true, but they didn’t need to know that. No one did.

*

Physics was Elia’s least favorite subject. Anything related to math was his least favorite subject, but for some reason, the school thought they still needed to learn it.

He was zoning out in the back, head in his arms, not really listening to what the teacher was saying about laws and other things he would probably need to remember for the test. Beside him, Martino was diligently taking notes, so Elia figured he’d just copy them later.

His phone buzzed in his pocket as he sat there, praying for an end to this day. The week had seemed endless, each day taking longer and longer to finish. Summer was too many months away, but Elia hoped it would come soon. He needed a break, a break from everything.

These days, it felt like his mind never shut off. He was constantly thinking of what he was supposed to do next, if he should talk to the girl with the blue hair, ask her out on a date. According to Filippo, she’d probably say yes. And it wasn’t that she wasn’t pretty. He kind of liked the blue-haired thing, but he also liked Filippo’s pink hair that had appeared at the party.

Maybe he just liked Filippo, he thought, his phone buzzing again, and he slipped it from his pocket, trying to be discrete.

_Hey it’s Filippo. Are you busy tomorrow?_

Elia stared at the words on the screen. How had Filippo gotten his number? And why was he messaging him? Glancing sideways, he checked to see if Martino was paying attention, but Martino was scribbling down notes and didn’t even notice Elia’s phone. Why would Martino have given his number to Filippo anyway? Why would anyone?

_Why?_ he wrote back finally, making sure the teacher wasn’t looking his way as he typed it in.

His phone vibrated again and he glanced at his lap.

_Doing a project. Need an extra set of hands._

Filippo could have asked anyone to help him, so why Elia? Elia didn’t have an answer as he frowned at the screen. There were a million possibilities, each one less like than the next.

“Santini!” 

Elia’s fingers clutched the phone as his head shot up to find the teacher watching him sharply. 

“There are no phones in my class. Whatever is so interesting on it will still be interesting later. Put it away.”

He nodded quickly, shoving the phone in his bag and ignoring the way Martino laughed under his breath, elbowing him in the side instead. “Sorry.”

As she moved on, Elia slumped down in his seat, head back on his arms as he sighed. He wasn’t dumb enough to think that Filippo was interested in him, not after last weekend. Elia had been rejected enough times to know it. So why was Filippo texting him?

He wasn’t going to get an answer by not replying, so when class finally ended, he dug his phone from his bag and told Filippo he was free tomorrow. At least then he’d find out.

*

Elia had never been to this part of town, which was strange considering he’d lived in Rome his entire life, but it was the address Filippo had texted him, hidden away down narrow alleys and past overgrown trees. If Elia didn’t know better, he might have thought Filippo was going to kill him and bury his body somewhere.

“You made it.”

Elia turned at Filippo’s voice behind him as he reached the end of the dead-end street, a wall rising up before him, bushes and weeds growing around it, curling over the top, graffiti sprayed over the crumbling bricks.

“Made it where exactly?” he asked. The least he could do was play it cool so Filippo wouldn’t know how confused he was by all of this.

“Here,” Filippo replied, stepping towards Elia. He had a square black bag over his shoulder that Elia raised an eyebrow at.

“And this project of yours?” he asked as Filippo set the bag on an old stump, unzipping the top. Filippo pulled out a camera and flashed Elia a smile.

“For my Live Portrait class,” he said, turning to Elia, who had a sudden thought.

“Wait, you want to take pictures of me?”

“You’re photogenic,” Filippo replied, taking off the lens cap. “I’ve seen your photos.”

“I am good-looking,” Elia allowed, and Filippo laughed. Elia’s heart skipped a beat, despite his better judgment.

“And with no shortage of confidence,” Filippo replied, glancing at Elia, and he wondered at it.

“Why didn’t you ask Nico?” he asked after a second, watching Filippo fiddle with the settings on his camera, and Filippo didn’t look up when he said it.

“What do you mean?”

Elia paused. “I mean, you’ve seen Nico, right? He has a face carved by the gods. Surely he’d be a better subject.” He watched Filippo carefully. It wasn’t that Elia didn’t think he was good-looking, but even he knew that he paled in comparison. They’d teased Martino about it enough times—how he’d managed to get someone as pretty as Nico. Even Luca knew it, and he didn’t notice anything.

Filippo paused for a second, and Elia thought maybe he was reconsidering, but then Filippo flipped the lip shut on the bag and turned to him. “Let’s just say Nico doesn’t fit the bill for this particular project.”

Elia had no idea what that meant, but if it meant he got to spend time alone with Filippo, he’d take it. Even though Filippo _wasn’t_ interested, he reminded himself. And even if he was, what was he supposed to do? Just tell him he wanted to make out with him? It had never worked with girls.

“So what do I have to do?” Elia asked as Filippo took some test shots of the wall, adjusting his camera as he went, smiling back at Elia.

“Just come stand right here,” he said, nodding at the wall, and Elia moved over, swinging his arms slightly, nervous for no particular reason. It almost annoyed him, the fact that he didn’t know what to do. He’d only ever felt nervous around a few girls, girls that had made his heart beat faster, his palms get sweaty, but that had been years ago. Nowadays, he was far more concerned with getting one to make out with him than worrying about if he felt like he needed to throw up.

“Do you want me to just stand here?” he asked, frowning at Filippo.

“Well, don’t frown,” he said. “You’ve seen girls’ Instagrams, right?”

“Of course.”

“Just don’t do what they do and you’ll be fine.”

Elia smiled for the first time since he’d arrived. “So no weird fingers in my mouth? That’s not hot?”

“Maybe for straight guys,” Filippo replied, lifting his camera as Elia looked away. “Do you like it?”

Elia shrugged. “Sometimes,” he admitted. “If the girl’s hot.” He paused, the camera clicking in the background. “What do gay guys think is cool in photos?”

“I get a lot of dick pics,” Filippo replied, and Elia made a face. He wasn’t sure he’d want to see that, at least not from someone he didn’t like. He knew he was attracted to guys—to the hard planes of their bodies, something about their jaw lines he couldn’t quite place—but beyond that, he’d never tried to see another guy’s dick on purpose, though he’d certainly thought about it more the past few months. Nico said it wasn’t about body parts anyway.

“And you like that?” he asked carefully as Filippo moved in closer, the camera up to his eye.

“Don’t scrunch up your face,” he said. “Dick pics are fine if you want to hook up. Better to know what you’re getting, right? But gay guys aren’t so different than everyone else.”

Sunlight streamed down overhead, afternoon creeping on as Elia tried not to look like an idiot as Filippo took his photo. Most of his selfies involved making a weird face, sticking out his tongue, generally being an idiot, but he didn’t want Filippo to think that. He probably did already.

“How do you know if you…” Elia trailed off, rethinking the words about the come out of his mouth. After all, he didn’t really know Filippo, and having a mild crush on him wasn’t a reason to say anything.

“If I what?” Filippo asked, lowering the camera slightly to watch Elia.

“Nothing,” he said after a second, shaking his head. “It was a dumb question.”

Elia felt his heart thud once or twice as Filippo didn’t raise the camera again, didn’t ignore him the same way everyone else did when he said stupid shit.

“Elia,” Filippo said finally, stepping up next to him, a shoulder leaning against the wall, sunlight falling on his face, and Elia frowned at the momentary urge to reach out and touch Filippo’s cheek. What was wrong with him? “If you need to talk about anything or not talk at all, I can be good at that.”

“What does that mean?” Elia shook his head, confused. He hadn’t said anything to anyone about the feelings he’d been having. He knew, logically, that no one was going to care. Martino was already out. Gio and Luca didn’t have a problem with it at all. But he still couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud. Everything would change after he did, maybe not in obvious ways, but he’d feel it inside.

Filippo shrugged. “Just saying I’m a good listener,” he said easily, flashing a smile at Elia, reaching out and brushing his hair from his forehead, and Elia swallowed carefully at the gesture. It didn’t mean what it could mean, he told himself. “If you ever want to talk. About whatever. I’ve also been told I give pretty good advice.”

Elia’s eyebrows went up, though he couldn’t shake the unease at Filippo’s words, the unanswered question of why he was saying this at all.

“Really? Because that’s not what Marti says.”

Scoffing, Filippo pushed himself off the wall, rolling his eyes. “Well, Martino’s an idiot.”

Elia laughed, catching Filippo’s smile. For a second, he felt a strange urge to tell him, to spill his secret to Filippo, to just get it out there and be able to take a breath, but he didn’t. The moment passed as Filippo glanced at him.

“Come on, we’re losing the light here. There’s another place a few blocks down I want to try,” he said, taking Elia’s wrist, and Elia didn’t protest, fighting back the tingle on his skin as Filippo tugged him onward.

*

“Where’s Martino?” Luca asked from his spot on the floor, and Elia ignored him as he scored another goal on Gio, grinning as Gio grimaced.

“He and Nico went to some movie marathon thing,” Gio replied, setting aside the controller, and Elia opened his hands.

“What are you doing?”

“Losing,” Gio replied, gesturing at the TV. He was losing pretty badly, and Elia grinned.

“Exactly. Pick it back up so I can kick your ass.”

“You already are.” Gio sat back on the couch, and Elia sighed. If there was one thing to distract him from everything else, it was FIFA. It didn’t work when Gio simply gave up. Luca was barely a worthy opponent.

“So what are we gonna do?” They were at Elia’s dad’s house for once, but his dad wasn’t home, and his sister was out with her friends, wherever they went. He tried not to ask. The mess on the table from the pizza was still there and he’d have to clean that up before his dad got back.

“Sofia’s having a party tonight,” Gio replied, and Luca immediately perked up from the floor.

“Did she invite you?”

“Of course,” Gio said, shoving his shoulder, and Elia couldn’t explain the clench of anxiety deep in his stomach.

It had been almost a week since he’d talked to Filippo, his offer to listen lingering in the back of his mind. There wasn’t much to tell, after all. He still liked girls. It wasn’t as if he’d stopped liking them. It was just that suddenly, there were more options to consider.

“So are we gonna go?” Luca asked, glancing between Elia and Gio. Elia didn’t see where it was his decision to make, but he jerked his shoulders. 

“Hot girls and lots of alcohol?” he said with a smile. “We’re going.”

Elia’s whole heart wasn’t quite in it, though, as he dragged himself from the couch and searched for his jacket. Maybe, at the very least, he’d find a girl to hook up with and forget about all his problems for a while.

*

Elia loved parties. He loved the loud music, the free-flowing alcohol, the girls on the dance floor, hair swishing behind them, hips swaying to the beat. He loved all the possibilities a party afforded, all the things that might happen.

The thing that seemed most likely to happen tonight was the blue-haired girl. Her eyes had been on Elia practically since he’d walked in, and he hadn’t ignored it this time. There was no Filippo to distract him this time from bringing her a beer and leaning into her space.

She laughed, taking a swig of the beer. “My friends say you’re kind of a dumbass,” she said, and Elia didn’t frown, perching an elbow on the wall next to him.

“My friends say you’re pretty hot,” he replied, and she ducked her chin, hiding a blush. It was so much easier than Elia remembered. Most of the time, when girls said he was a dumbass, it was as they were walking away, not flicking their eyes up to him and smiling slowly.

“What do you say?” she asked, tilting her head to the side, and this was the part where Elia knew what he was supposed to do. This was his opening, and for the first time in his life, he hesitated.

It wasn’t that she wasn’t pretty, the girl with the deep brown eyes, blue hair cut short at her chin, wearing a low-cut dress he could see down if he looked. She was as attractive as any girl he’d ever attempted to hook up with, and she was actually interested.

Pushing aside the hesitation, Elia leaned in, close enough to let his lips brush against hers as he spoke, and she didn’t pull away.

“I say you’re beautiful,” he whispered, unsurprised for once when she kissed him, hands around his neck, and a thrill ran through his stomach.

It had been too long since any girl had wanted to do this with him—for all his bragging, Elia’s track record wasn’t that great. Most girls said he was annoying or too immature. But not this girl. This girl was making out with him in the middle of the party, her tongue in his mouth, and Elia responded enthusiastically.

Sliding his hands down her back, he paused at her lower back. He wondered if she knew of any empty rooms in the house, if he’d thought to put a condom in his wallet, if maybe he was getting ahead of himself.

Her lips were soft, smooth with lipstick, and she tasted like mint breath fresheners. Her fingernails dug into the back of his neck and Elia liked it. He liked the curves of her body pressed against his, but he wondered, as his hands settled on her hips, what it would feel like if she didn’t have those curves, had hard abs instead of a soft stomach, if it would be different if she had a lip ring, stubble on her cheeks.

Before his mind could get that far, heart beating fast in his chest as the thoughts overwhelmed him, why he was thinking that right now, with a girl in his arms, willing to kiss him, his phone rang in his pocket.

He pulled away, leaving her frowning at him, tugging the phone from his pocket.

It was Filippo’s name on the screen, and Elia frowned at it, answering it despite the girl watching him, her lipstick smeared on her face.

“Hello?” Elia said, listening for a response, but there was none. He could only hear the muffled sounds of music somewhere in the background. No one answered, though he thought maybe he could hear talking if he concentrated, pressed a finger to his ear. “Filo?”

There was no answer, and Elia sighed, ending the call. Maybe he hadn’t meant to call.

“What was that?” the girl asked, reaching for his neck and leaning back into him as though she didn’t care about the answer, but Elia moved back. He didn’t know why exactly. Any other day, he would have ignored the phone, put it on silent and gone back to kissing her, but he couldn’t help thinking about Filippo, wondering what he was doing.

“I have to go check that he’s okay,” he said, though a part of him wasn’t sure why he was doing this, leaving a hot girl to go text Filippo and ask why the hell he’d called him at eleven o’clock on a Thursday night.

_Because you want to talk to Filo_ , his brain said unhelpfully as Elia shook his phone at the girl as he made his excuse.

“I’ll find you later,” he said, though he had little intention of that, as he turned from her and stepped into the crowd, pulling up Filippo’s name and pressing send.

It rang a few too many times as Elia pushed through the crowd, looking for an empty room where the music wasn’t as loud, his heart jumping when Filippo finally picked up. 

“For fuck’s sake, Ele,” Filippo answered. “I will make you more risotto when you get back.”

Elia paused, not sure what to say to that. “Uh, it’s Elia.”

“Oh.” Filippo sounded surprised. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Elia replied, hoping he didn’t sound as nervous as he felt. “You just called me?”

“I did? Must have been a pocket dial.”

Elia felt his hopes dying as he turned in the empty room. Aside from the music throbbing through the apartment, he could hear something similar on the phone. He should have known that Filippo wouldn’t just call him on a Friday night for no reason. He was letting his imagination run wild with him.

“Right,” Elia said quickly, sinking down on the bed, trying to come up with a way to end this conversation gracefully. He could still go find the blue-haired girl, take her into this room and see how far they might get. He wasn’t sure if that was even what he wanted right now, sitting here with Filippo on the phone.

“Where are you?” Filippo asked on the other end, and maybe he didn’t want to end the call either.

“Just this party,” Elia said. “It’s not that great. Where are you?”

“A club.” He paused. “Hold on a second.”

Elia stared at the room around him. He wasn’t even sure whose house this was, and the room gave him no clue. There was fancy art on the wall. A pile of coats sat on the bed next to him and he leaned back as he sighed.

“That’s better.” Filippo’s voice came back, the other end quieter now. “I can hear you now.” He paused, but Elia didn’t say anything, though he could hear Filippo’s breathing on the other end. “So what’s up?”

“Nothing,” Elia said at length. “Just was seeing why you called, and apparently you didn’t, so…”

He felt kind of stupid right now. He shouldn’t have been excited that Filippo called. After all, they weren’t even friends really. Elia had only spoken to him a few times. Maybe he was just desperate for someone to talk to, someone who wasn’t his friends. 

“Listen,” Filippo said after a minute. “Ele’s gone this weekend and I’m going to be spending most of it editing photos of your face. If you want to come over, I could give you photo approval.”

For a second, Elia didn’t reply, thinking. It was a strange invitation. He wasn’t sure how much help he would be with Filippo’s assignment, but it was still Filippo asking him over, wanting to spend time with him. What did he have to lose at this point?

“Okay,” Elia agreed, smiling slightly. “Yeah, we could do that.”

“Okay,” Filippo echoed. “Saturday then?”

“Yeah,” Elia said. “I’ll see you then.”

“Goodnight, Elia. Enjoy your party,” Filippo said easily as he ended the call. 

Setting his phone down, Elia wasn’t sure what he’d just agreed to, but at the very least, he’d get to see Filippo again. He didn’t know what might happen, but he was interested in finding out.

*

“You have a really nice apartment,” Elia said, looking back at the balcony as Filippo sat down next to him on the couch, setting a soda on the coffee table.

“Thanks,” Filippo replied, and Elia turned from the balcony to watch Filippo slide onto the couch, taking up the whole other half, completely relaxed in a way that Elia didn’t feel.

He wasn’t sure why he’d agreed to this, to hanging out with Filippo again. Last time he’d been in Filippo’s apartment, Filippo had made it clear he wasn’t interested, and to be honest, Elia wouldn’t have know what to do if he had been. For all his confidence, he had no idea what he was doing.

“Where’s Eleonora?” he asked as they sat there, not that he cared where she was. He wouldn’t have wanted her there to see them sitting awkwardly.

Filippo shrugged easily. “She’s off gallivanting in the country for the weekend.”

“I wish I was in the country,” Elia said without thinking. He’d even take Gio’s freezing cabin, sleeping on the floor again, as long as it meant he didn’t have to think about things anymore.

“I’m insulted,” Filippo said, a hand to his chest. “Am I so terrible to be around? What must I do to keep you entertained?”

Elia cracked a smile at that. “You did invite me over to watch you edit photos.” It wasn’t exactly the most exciting thing he could be doing on a Saturday afternoon.

Filippo’s laptop was closed on the coffee table, and Filippo only glanced at it vaguely.

“We both know that’s not the real reason I asked you over.”

Careful, Elia frowned. “What?”

It couldn’t be what he was thinking, but he had no other explanation when Filippo pushed himself up on the couch.

Filippo smiled. “Obviously I invited you over to make out.”

Elia stared, as though he couldn’t process the words Filippo had just said, and he was halfway to agreeing when Filippo laughed.

“I’m kidding! I don’t kiss straight guys. Often.” He shook his head and Elia blinked slowly, the momentary urge to agree with Filippo not quite fading. Filippo tilted his head to the side when Elia let out a breath, sinking further away from him on the couch. “Elia?”

It wasn’t necessarily that Elia wanted to make out with Filippo. Well, he did. He wanted to know what it might feel like to kiss a guy, if he really did like guys or if it was just some weird curiosity he couldn’t shake. He wasn’t sure what he wanted or even where to begin.

Glancing up, he forced down the nerves gathering in his stomach. He hadn’t said this out loud to anyone yet, and he didn’t have to say it now, but Filippo was watching him, waiting for him.

“Did you always know you liked guys?” he asked finally, and Filippo didn’t seem surprised at the question.

“Yeah,” he said simply, and it didn’t help Elia. “It was pretty obvious to everyone but me for a while, though.”

“So you just knew,” Elia said, more to himself than anything, and he didn’t look up until Filippo shifted closer, no longer relaxed.

“Not everybody knows,” he said, and Elia could feel his eyes watching him. “It takes some people a long time to figure it out.”

Fuck, he should just say it, Elia told himself. What did he have to lose by telling Filippo? It was harder than he’d imagined, though, forcing the words from his mouth. This must have been what it was like to Martino. He hadn’t really considered the weight of it when Martino had told them in the stairwell, perched on the windowsill, slipped in between a conversation about Luca’s porn habits and a trip to Bracciano.

“I’ve just been… thinking about it,” he admitted finally, chancing a glance at Filippo. “I mean, about guys. But I still like girls.”

Filippo lifted his head, nodding slowly, and Elia held his breath, nervous again.

“You think maybe you’re bisexual?”

“Maybe,” Elia allowed, exhaling slowly. He didn’t know what to call it, the thoughts swirling around in his head. “I’ve never kissed a guy, though.”

“Have you wanted to?”

Elia smiled slightly. That was twice now that Filippo had offered to make out with him, whether a joke or not. He should said yes the first time, at the party. Hell, he should have said yes just now, before Filippo had taken it back.

Instead of replying, he jerked his shoulders, and Filippo smiled, tongue flicking over his lip ring. He didn’t like this unsure feeling that had been plaguing him for weeks. Usually, he could roll with the punches, not think too much about his problems, spend more time listening to Luca’s dumb stories instead of lost in his own head. He didn’t like it at all.

“It’s normal not to know what you want,” Filippo said simply, but Elia shook his head. That wasn’t what he wanted to hear.

“No,” he said, catching Filippo’s eyebrow raise. “I want to know.”

Filippo seemed to pause, a curve to the corner of his mouth as though Elia amused him. “Is this your way of telling me you want me to take you to a gay club and find someone to kiss?”

Elia made a face. “I don’t want to make out with some strange guy.”

“Do you object so strongly to kissing strange girls?”

Elia paused. “No,” he admitted. “But it’s different.”

“Different?”

Shifting, Elia slid his knee onto the couch so he could face Filippo, ignoring the way his stomach did a little flip, nervous again. “I _know_ I like girls,” he said slowly, chewing on his bottom lip. “But I don’t know for sure that I like guys. And if I’m going to find out, I don’t want it to be with some weird person in a club.”

“So get to know someone,” Filippo said gently. “You don’t have to kiss the first gay guy you meet.”

“If that was the rule, I would have had to make out with Martino a long time ago,” he said, and Filippo laughed.

“Nico might have objected to that.” He paused when Elia sighed. “Someday you’ll find someone you like and you’ll want to kiss them.”

Frowning, Elia glanced at Filippo. “I’d rather get it over with.”

Filippo smiled, shaking his head. “I knew there was a romantic underneath all that bravado.”

“What about you?” Elia asked before he could talk himself out of it. It was a stupid suggestion since he was pretty sure Filippo only saw him as Martino’s annoying friend, the confused newly bisexual kid who was sitting on his couch asking to make out with him for real this time.

“What about me?” Filippo repeated, plucking at his shirt. It was a floral thing, bright and colorful.

“You could kiss me,” Elia said, watching the way Filippo’s head rose to look at him, an amused smile appearing. “You said I was cute.”

“That was for Silvia’s sake,” Filippo said, and Elia frowned.

“So you don’t think I’m good-looking?”

Filippo rolled his eyes, leaning forward and patting Elia’s cheek. “You’re beautiful, Eli,” he said simply, “but I don’t think I should be your first gay experience.”

“It’s not like I’m going to freak out.”

“I’m not worried you’re going to freak out,” Filippo replied, sitting back, and Elia shook his head.

“Are you worried I’m going to fall in love with you or something?” Elia rolled his eyes. “I just want to get it over with.”

“You sure know how to romance a guy,” Filippo said, kidding, but he paused, eyes on Elia. 

Elia wasn’t going to fall for Filippo. He’d never fallen for any of the girls he’d kissed, and he’d kissed plenty. Filippo was right, though. He wasn’t presenting a very good case.

Pressing his palms together, he lifted his gaze to Filippo. “I’d just rather do it with someone I know in case I’m completely wrong.”

Filippo nodded after a second. “Do you think you’re wrong?”

“No,” Elia had to admit. He was pretty sure he was into guys, even if he had never kissed one. They were on his mind the same way girls were, but now he had more questions than answers. “But I want to know what it’s like.”

He could go to a club, a bar, somewhere there would be lots of guys to choose from. He could experiment and kiss as many as he wanted, and maybe he would someday. Maybe, once he finally told the guys, he’d go somewhere with Marti and Nico and try out his pick-up skills. But for now, Elia didn’t want to do that.

For a minute, Filippo didn’t reply, and Elia shouldn’t have brought it up at all.

“Well, I can’t kiss you now,” Filippo said finally, and what hope Elia might have had fell away. “It’s weird if you’re waiting for me to do it.”

Looking up, Elia paused. What did that mean? “Then you should do it when I’m not—” He stopped as Filippo shifted forward, into his space, hands on either side of his head and leaning in.

Filippo had been right, he thought as he felt the soft press of Filippo’s lips to his. It wasn’t much different than kissing a girl except that he wasn’t taking the lead for once, following the tilt of Filippo’s head. There was a scrape of stubble against his cheek that felt different, unexpected, sending a shiver over his skin, and he took half a second to press closer to Filippo, into this new feeling.

Filippo knew how to kiss, not sloppy or too tight-lipped, and Elia took a breath as he followed Filippo’s mouth, teeth closing over the ring on his bottom lip, and he felt Filippo’s smile, heard the huffed laugh before Filippo moved back, breaking them apart, and Elia almost didn’t want him to go.

“I don’t think I need to ask how it was,” Filippo said as Elia blinked slowly. It hadn’t been what he’d expected, and he’d definitely liked it. “But I will anyway.”

Elia laughed, his heart feeling lighter than it had in days, as if just knowing for sure took off some of the pressure. He’d told someone. He’d kissed a guy. And he’d liked it. It wasn’t just imaginary feelings that welled up at the oddest times like when he somehow noticed some guy’s forearm for the first time or the funny feeling he got when wind rustled some guy’s hair.

“You’re not half-bad,” he said, and Filippo scoffed.

“High praise.” He tilted his head to the side, though. “You feel better now?”

“Yeah, actually,” Elia admitted, smiling at Filippo, and as Filippo nodded, he leaned back into the cushions, watching Filippo reach for his laptop finally and flip it open.

“That was a one-time favor,” he said, shooting a look at Elia, and Elia didn’t react. “No matter how good I am at kissing.”

“Okay,” Elia said, but he wasn’t sure how much he believed what he said as Filippo turned his attention to the laptop.

*

A one-time favor. That was what Filippo had said, and Elia couldn’t shake it from his mind. It wasn’t like he wanted to _date_ Filippo. Hell, he didn’t want to date anyone really. He saw what it was like for Gio and Martino, how much time they spent with Sofia and Niccolò respectively. He liked his freedom.

Then again, Gio and Martino seemed pretty happy.

“Elia.”

Elia looked away from the window as Martino shook his shoulder, tuning into the scraping of chairs as class was dismissed. He didn’t think he’d heard a word of class today, too distracted with thoughts of Filippo, thoughts he shouldn’t have been having, especially not in the middle of class.

As he joined Martino, he knew Martino suspected something by the way he was watching him.

“You weren’t nearly as much of an asshole as usual today,” Martino said as they stepped into the hallway. Gio had left school at noon for an appointment of some sort—Elia hadn’t bothered to ask or pay attention—so it was just him and Martino heading for the front gate to wait for Luca and Nico.

“Fuck off,” he replied, shaking his head at Martino, but he knew it wasn’t enough when Martino frowned.

“Look, Eli, I just wanted to say sorry about the whole Silvia thing.”

“Sorry?” Elia almost laughed, but Martino’s expression was serious, and for a second, he wondered if Martino knew, if he suspected.

Martino shrugged. “Obviously, you’re not interested in her. It was just a stupid idea we had. I shouldn’t have pushed so hard.”

“Marti,” Elia said, smiling at him, brushing it off. “It’s fine.”

He didn’t care about Silvia or even the guys trying to set him up with her. How many times had they tried to hook Martino up with a girl before he came out? Not one of them had ever listened when he said he wasn’t interested.

Martino nodded slowly. “So how’s the blue-haired girl?”

Elia hadn’t even thought of her since the party, since he’d bailed on her to talk to Filippo. He’d bailed on a girl willing to hook up with him to call Filippo.

“I don’t know,” he said at length. “Haven’t talked to her.”

Martino shook his head, but he smiled. “You know, you actually have to talk to girls if you want to sleep with them.”

“Big words,” Elia scoffed as they reached the front door and he pushed them open. “Considering you got Emma because you called her a frog.”

“I didn’t like Emma,” Martino pointed out. “That wasn’t supposed to work.” He followed Elia outside into the sunshine. “I got Nico because we were friends first.”

“Friends you didn’t tell your friends about,” Elia said, trotting down the stairs. He knew why Martino hadn’t told them about Niccolò at first because it was the same thing he felt about Filippo, an undeniable urge to be around him, to talk to him, to kiss him.

Glancing at Martino, Elia felt an unfamiliar twist of guilt deep in his stomach. Guilt that he hadn’t told Martino, the one person who would probably understand these feelings, the confusion. Elia wasn’t usually one for secrets—he was an open book about his feelings and thoughts—but lately, everything had been locked away.

“Well, we’re all friends now,” Martino said, and they stopped by the wall, waiting for Luca to join them. “Right? You guys like Nico?”

Laughing, Elia grabbed Martino’s shoulder. “Bro, you don’t have to ask that. Nico’s one of the guys. He has been since the first time we met him. Luchino practically asked to be adopted by him.”

Martino smiled and Elia dropped his hand. He should tell Martino, he thought as they stood there. He should tell him about Filippo, about the kiss Filippo said was a one-time thing. Now that he was sure, what was holding him back? Martino would have his back. Gio and Luca and Niccolò would have his back.

“Marti,” he said after a second, and Martino looked over from where he’d been watching the school entrance. “There’s something I need to tell—”

“Hey, guys!” Luca interrupted Elia, and he bit his lip instead as Martino cast him a questioning look.

“Hey,” Elia greeted Luca instead, avoiding Martino’s gaze.

“My parents are going to this benefit thing tonight,” Luca said eagerly. “We could do a FIFA tournament.”

It was easier than thinking about what he’d been about to do, so Elia grinned, slapping Luca’s shoulder. “I’m in. Marti?”

Martino’s eyes rested on him for a moment, as if he knew, and Elia’s stomach tightened. “Okay,” he agreed, though, and Elia didn’t sigh as they turned down the street. He’d tell Martino some other time.

*

Staring at the poster of Alessandro Del Piero taped to the back of his bedroom door, Elia wondered why he had never noticed how good-looking Del Piero was. Or maybe he had and that was why his twelve year-old self had taped that particular poster of Del Piero, with his football jersey pulled halfway up his abs, sweat gleaming on his skin, onto his door.

Lying upside down, Elia sighed, digging his phone from his pocket. He was bored out of his mind, and it was either stay in his room or go out in the living room and watch soap operas with his little sister.

The group chat with the boys had been annoyingly silent all weekend. Even Luca hadn’t made a desperate plea to hang out, which probably meant he was actually busy for once. Elia could guess what Gio and Martino were busy with, and he closed out of the chat.

Instead, he brought up Filippo’s messages. Filippo hadn’t texted him since last weekend, since they’d kissed.

_It wasn’t that kind of kiss,_ the voice in the back of his head piped up unhelpfully.

So it wasn’t that kind of kiss. That didn’t mean they couldn’t hang out, Elia thought as he typed in a slow message.

_What are you doing? I need to get out of my house before I die of boredom._

He hit send before he could think too much of it. Filippo wasn’t any different than anyone else, he told himself. Just because he made Elia’s stomach do little flips, it didn’t mean Elia had to treat him differently.

_I’m going out tonight_.

Elia paused at Filippo’s message.

_Out where?_

The typing bubble popped up but disappeared after a second and Elia sighed.

_To a club,_ was Filippo’s response a minute later.

Elia could guess what kind of club Filippo meant. One of those clubs he’d never been to down on Via San Giovanni.

_Can I come with you?_ Elia wrote, almost nervous as he hit send.

He’d always wondered what those places were like. Martino never talked about it, never said he’d ever gone, but Elia had thought about it. He’d thought about going alone, but he’d never worked up the courage somehow.

Gazing at Del Piero, Elia waited for Filippo’s response, clutching the phone to his chest. His bedroom door sprang open a second later and his sister stood in the doorway.

“Mom wants to know if you’re going to stay in your room all day,” she said. “She says if you’re going to be lazy, you can at least do chores.”

“Get out of my room,” he said, ignoring what she said.

She didn’t move, crossing her arms, dark eyes traveling over the mess on the floor—clothes and books scattered around, bedsheets he hadn’t changed in weeks.

His phone chimed, though, and he ignored her as he read Filippo’s message.

_You sure you’re ready for that?_

Elia smiled slightly, typing his response. 

_Afraid I’ll upstage you? I am younger, fitter, cuter._

As he sent it, he glanced back at Camilla, who was still in his doorway. “Tell mom I’m going out.”

“I’m not your messenger,” she said, and he rolled his eyes, sitting up finally.

“I’ll give you ten euros to do my chores,” he said, and she scoffed.

“Fifty.”

“Thirty,” Elia said, and she contemplated it for a moment before jerking her shoulder. His phone chimed again.

“Fine. Just make sure you use a condom. STDs are a bitch.”

Elia threw a pillow at her as she shut the door. He turned his phone over to read the message.

_21:00 at my place_.

Smiling to himself, Elia relaxed back on the bed. His Saturday was looking up.

*

Elia wasn’t sure if he should have changed his shirt as he followed Filippo into the club, a sudden nervousness taking over him as he looked all around, over the dark mass of bodies on the dance floor, the deep red lights along the walls, guys making out as he passed them.

Filippo glanced over his shoulder, as though to check that Elia was still with him. Elia wanted to do this, though, especially if he got to do it with Filippo.

“Rule number one,” Filippo said as they reached the bar, and Elia raised his eyebrows. There were rules? “Guys you think are hot in the neon lights are about ten percent less hot in the light of the morning.”

“Is that a learned rule?” he asked, and Filippo signaled at the bartender.

“It’s better you keep any hook-up in the club. At least until you’re experienced enough to know what you’re doing.”

Elia didn’t nod, watching Filippo lean across the bar so he could tell his order to the bartender. Filippo had dressed up a little, it seemed, with another silk shirt over a bright pink tee shirt and pants that were tighter than Elia had ever seen on a guy. He let his gaze linger, just for a second, on Filippo’s ass, until Filippo turned to him and he jerked his gaze back up.

“What’s the second rule?” he asked, moving out of the way of a couple guys crowding in at the bar. He’d been to plenty of parties, with drunk people dancing and singing along to the music, but he’d never been somewhere like here. Somewhere he caught guys’ eyes on him, and they didn’t even look away when he noticed. It felt strangely good to be noticed.

“The second rule is don’t get so drunk you don’t know what’s happening. It’s not a party with your friends. It’s a club with strangers who want in your pants.”

Elia had never thought of it that way, and he leaned back against the bar with Filippo, gazing out at the dance floor.

Music thudded all around him, rattling in his chest, and he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do. For a second, he felt panic steal over him. Was he supposed to just make out with someone? Was that why he’d come? To hook up with a guy who wasn’t Filippo?

“There’s a cute one over there,” Filippo said, breaking Elia out of his thoughts, and he forced himself to look in the direction Filippo nodded.

There was a guy with dark, curly hair and sharp cheekbones watching him from the dance floor, and Elia felt his stomach flip over. He swallowed instead of replying, and he could feel Filippo’s eyes on him.

“Fili!” 

Elia breathed a sigh of relief as a different guy darted through the crowd towards them. This guy was blond, but not bleached, a natural dirty-blond and wearing a black tee-shirt with some colorful design on it that Elia couldn’t make out. He reached them easily, throwing his arms around Filippo in greeting.

“I was starting to think you picked someone up without even saying hello,” the guy said, stepping back, and Elia eyed him carefully. They seemed to be good friends, or maybe more than that. He felt a slight twinge in his chest as Filippo grinned at the guy.

“Got a late start is all,” he said, turning to Elia. “Dante, this is Elia. He’s a new friend.”

Friend, Elia thought as Dante’s eyes fell on him, up and down as though checking him out. It was a strange feeling. He wondered if this was how girls felt.

“You’re cute,” Dante said easily. “Too cute for Fili.”

“Thanks?” Elia said, confused, and Filippo rolled his eyes.

“You’re so desperate, Dante,” he said, and Dante jerked his shoulders, squeezing in against the bar next to Filippo and nodding out at a guy on the dance floor.

“What about that one?” Dante asked, and Elia couldn’t tell who he was indicating, but Filippo seemed to know as he shook his head. 

“Already slept with him.”

Dante groaned, put-upon, as if being Filippo’s friend was such a weighty task. “Is there anyone in here you haven’t slept with?”

“You,” Filippo replied, grinning and nudging him in the side. Elia couldn’t help glancing at Filippo. He wondered how many people he had slept with. Probably more than Elia.

“I’m too good for you,” Dante replied, shoving a hand through his curls. “But you do realize if you sleep with every gay guy in this city, eventually you’ll run out.”

“Haven’t you heard? They make new gays every day.”

Filippo met Elia’s eyes, and Elia smiled in return.

Dante didn’t seem impressed by his answer, stealing Filippo’s drink, and Elia was surprised when he let him. 

“You’ve already slept with all your options,” Dante pointed out. “So at least tell me which was the best in bed so I’ll know.”

“A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell.” 

“Good thing you’re not a gentleman,” Dante replied, letting Filippo take his drink back. “Maybe Elia wants to dance with me?”

All eyes turned to him, and Elia hesitated. “I think I need a drink first,” he said. A drink and then maybe he’d be ready to dance with someone. A drink and maybe he’d stop thinking about dancing with Filippo.

“Give him a break, Dante,” Filippo said easily. “It’s his first time.”

“Then I’m sure you’ll show him the ropes,” Dante said, flashing a smile at Elia. “I’m going to go find someone who wants to kiss me.”

As Dante bounced away, Elia let out a breath. He wasn’t sure he was ready for everything, whether that was grinding with a guy on the dance floor or making out against a wall. He’d been hoping, when he’d asked to come with Filippo that maybe, just maybe, he’d be able to convince Filippo he wasn’t a lost cause, a one-time thing. Here, though, surrounded by guys Filippo had probably hooked up with, he realized he probably didn’t even compare.

“Don’t be scared,” Filippo said, and Elia blinked, shaking away the thoughts crowding his brain. “Everyone’s first time is intimidating.”

“I’m not intimidated,” Elia said, even though maybe he was. Just a little.

“Okay,” Filippo agreed with a knowing smile. “Let’s get you that drink.”

Turning to the bar, Elia was glad Filippo was there with him.

*

He liked the club, Elia decided as he moved with the music. He liked the lights and the alcohol and the guys. He liked the guys who didn’t hide their interest, moving to dance with him, buying him drinks.

He’d lost track of Filippo, which he hadn’t meant to do. Filippo was who he wanted to see as he danced with some guy he didn’t know, but there were too many people to pick him out. It was fun, though, knowing people wanted him. With girls, he always felt like he was chasing them, like he could never really tell if they were interested or not, but not with guys.

The guy he was dancing with, a guy with a nose ring and tattoos on his arms, slid his hands around Elia’s waist. Completely sober, Elia might have tensed up, caught off-guard by the new sensation, but he’d had enough to drink that he didn’t care. The guy was good-looking enough, but he wasn’t as good-looking as Filippo.

“Elia.”

Elia’s head shot up at Filippo’s voice in his ear, and he smiled at him. Filippo’s gaze was on the guy, his hands sliding their way down.

“Hi,” Elia greeted him, twisting in the guy’s grip.

“You doing okay?”

Elia met Filippo’s eyes, frowning slightly at the question. He grinned a second later, stepping away from the guy without even another glance, into Filippo.

“I’m great,” he said, swaying slightly, and Filippo grabbed his arm to keep him steady.

“Didn’t I say not to get too drunk?”

“I’m not,” Elia assured him, shaking his head. “I know what’s happening.”

Filippo’s eyebrows went up, and Elia wanted to smooth them down. Leaning into Filippo, he let Filippo hold him upright, hands tight on his upper arms.

“What’s happening?” Filippo asked curiously, and Elia bit his lip.

“I’m going to kiss you again,” he said before he could think about the words, about how Filippo might react.

“Elia,” Filippo said, almost warning, but Elia had had just enough to drink that he was feeling reckless and a little stupid, a little too brave with Filippo standing in front of him. After all, Filippo had let him come tonight.

“Filo,” Elia said, exactly the same. He knew what Filippo had said, that he didn’t want to be Elia’s first. First gay experience. First whatever. But that was exactly what Elia wanted.

Filippo’s hands released his arms as they stood there, not really dancing, surrounded by strangers, the bass line echoing reverberating around Elia’s rib cage, and he could feel his heart beat over all of it as he stepped closer to Filippo, eyes on his lips.

“You can stop me,” he said quietly, almost daring Filippo as he took a breath, bracing himself for Filippo pushing him away, stopping him somehow, telling him again that he wasn’t interested and Elia was just playing himself.

Filippo didn’t, though. He didn’t stop Elia as their lips met, warm and soft and everything Elia wanted right now. He wanted to feel Filippo, to get his hands on him, gliding down his sides, over the slippery fabric of his shirt, tugging at the loose tails as Filippo’s hands came to Elia’s neck.

It was different than last time, not as careful, not as cautious, tongues sliding together, the rough scrape of Filippo’s stubble against his chin as he tilted his head. His eyes closed, Elia focused on the warmth flooding his body as he kissed Filippo, running his tongue over Filo’s lip ring, chasing the thrill as Filippo licked into his mouth.

Filippo’s hands on his neck tilted his chin up, into the kiss, the tug of Filippo’s teeth on his bottom lip, and Elia couldn’t believe this was happening. It was everything he’d wanted since Silvia had shown him Filippo’s picture, told him what Filippo had said about him.

He took a breath when Filippo pulled away a minute later, lips tingling, not looking up yet.

“This isn’t a good idea,” Filippo breathed, fingers dropping from Elia’s neck, and Elia wanted to laugh.

“We’re not doing anything.”

Filippo shot him a look and Elia arched an innocent eyebrow. They weren’t doing anything, as far as he was concerned. They were making out, like people did.

“We’re just friends,” Filippo said simply.

Friends wasn’t all that Elia wanted, but he’d take it if it meant he got to make out with Filippo. He’d take ‘friends’ and whatever else that might mean.

“Friends who make out,” he said, his eyes on Filippo’s lips and the way Filippo rolled his tongue over his piercing, looking as though he was trying to think it over, but it was hard even for Elia to get his thoughts straight amongst the pounding music and grinding bodies.

“We could be,” he said after a minute, hands falling from Elia’s neck. “As long as you can handle that.”

“I can handle it,” Elia assured him, grinning at Filippo.

“Rule number three,” Filippo said as they stood on the dance floor, “don’t go home with the first guy you meet.”

Elia caught Filippo’s gaze, his heart skipping a beat. Whatever this was, he liked where it was going.

*

“Do you have it?”

Elia looked up from his phone, Filippo’s messages lingering on the screen, and he closed the app quickly.

“Have what?” he asked Gio as he and Marti showed up outside the gate. Elia wasn’t usually the first one to school, but he had woken up early that morning, unable to sleep as he scrolled through Filippo’s Instagram instead.

“The notes Luchi asked for?” Gio said, raising his eyebrows as though Elia should know what he was talking about, but he had no idea. He didn’t miss the look Gio shot at Martino. “He asked for Latin notes.”

Elia made a face. “I don’t have Latin notes.” He relied on Martino for his notes most of the time. He wasn’t sure why both Martino and Gio would expect him to have notes. “Why don’t you have them?”

“Didn’t you get the messages?” Gio asked, and Elia shrugged. He hadn’t exactly paid much attention to any of the messages he’d gotten this weekend, not after Saturday night. It was cliche, but Elia couldn’t stop thinking about Filippo.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Filippo’s smile, felt the scrape of stubble against his cheek, and it made him hotter than he’d like to admit. He shouldn’t have been thinking about it, especially not with Gio giving him that look, the same look he’d used to give Martino.

“My mom had me cleaning all weekend,” he lied. “She said my room is like trash can.”

“Well.” Martino made an agreeing face and Elia punched his shoulder in response.

“Guess Luchino is out of luck,” Gio said instead, and Elia hummed.

“It’s time he learned to fend for himself anyway.”

Gio didn’t argue, and Elia was glad when he changed the subject. He supposed he should have actually read the messages, not ignored his friends in favor of lazing around all Sunday in his room, fabricating scenarios in which he and Filippo would be alone again.

Filippo hadn’t texted him since Saturday, not that Elia had expected him to. After all, they were just friends. Friends who kissed occasionally. Elia bit back his smile, barely paying attention to what Martino was saying.

“Sana thinks we should branch out from important women in history.”

“What’s there to branch out to?” Gio asked, nodding in greeting to Luca, who weaved through the crowd toward them.

Martino shrugged. “I don’t know. This whole show was her idea in the first place. Maybe I could get her to partner with Eleonora and Nico and I could do a show together instead.”

Elia watched Martino shrug. “You guys having any more radio parties?” he asked, and Martino’s eyebrows went up.

“Since when do you like radio parties?” he asked. “It’s not like I can bribe you with Sofia anymore.”

Elia scoffed. “I don’t need to be bribed with girls. Booze will do.”

“Silvia goes to radio parties,” Luca said, and Elia slung his arm over Luca’s shoulders.

“Exactly. Why not give Luchi a shot with the girl?”

Martino still looked confused why he was asking, but he shook his head.

“There aren’t any parties planned, but you could ask Silvia.”

Elia grimaced at the idea. It was bad enough to ask Martino if there were any radio parties, but Silvia would take it as interest in the radio, of which he had none.

“I was thinking of joining the radio,” Luca said from beside him. “Do you think Silvia would let me?”

Martino laughed easily. “Yeah, Luchi, she’d love to have you.”

Luca beamed, but Elia spaced out again as Luca began talking about his ideas for a radio show. If there were no radio parties, he’d have to find another excuse to see Filippo. That shouldn’t be too hard.

*

“I can’t believe you’ve never seen Titanic,” Filippo said as he settled on the couch next to Elia, too much space between them, hitting play on the remote.

“It’s old,” Elia replied, watching Filippo instead of the screen as the movie played. “It came out before I was born.”

“That’s no excuse!” Filippo insisted, tucking his legs underneath him and glancing at Elia. “You are so lucky you have me, Elia. You and Marti, who refuses to watch this with me, by the way.”

“How rude of him,” Elia said, scooting closer to Filippo so he could feel the brush of his arm, let their legs touch. He knew Filippo noticed, but he didn’t say anything about it.

“It is rude,” Filippo said simply, leaning back against the couch. He didn’t appear to be watching the movie either, but Elia supposed he had probably seen it a hundred times to Elia’s zero. “It’s a classic gay awakening.”

“It’s gay?” Elia had been pretty sure that Leonardo DiCaprio slept with Kate Winslet’s character. That was about the extent of his knowledge of the film.

“Gay awakening,” Filippo said, nodding at the screen as Leonardo appeared on screen. “Also known as the first time you realize you’re not as straight as you thought.”

Elia had always been pretty sure he was straight. He had never even questioned it until Martino came out, until there was suddenly another option.

“So Leonardo DiCaprio was your first gay crush?” Elia asked, and Filippo laughed, shaking his head.

“No. He was just the first time I realized that I’d rather see the guy naked instead of the girl.”

Elia paused, glancing at the screen. He supposed he should actually watch the movie since that was what he had invited himself over to do, but he wasn’t really interested in a sad love story.

“So who was your first?”

Biting his lip ring, Filippo didn’t answer for a minute. “Dario Romano,” he said with a sigh. “I was twelve, and he was the cutest guy in my class. Of course, he didn’t give me the time of day, and he was expelled after the gym teacher caught him going down on a girl in his office. But he was the first.”

“And who was your first… real…” Elia said, unsure if he should even ask, but Filippo laughed.

“I was seventeen,” he said easily, tilting his head against the pillow and smiling at the memory. “I snuck into a club and the bartender wouldn’t give me a drink, but this guy came up and bought me one. He was tall, handsome, had a great smile. I went home with him, and a month later, he cheated on me with an older guy.”

“Sorry,” Elia said, for lack of anything better to say, but Filippo shrugged.

“I wasn’t in love with him or anything. I just wanted to hook up.”

“So not like Marti and Nico at all?”

Filippo shook his head. “No. Those two are fated or something.” He nudged Elia in the side. “We’re missing the movie.”

“How long is this thing?” Elia asked as he glanced at the screen. It felt as though it had been playing forever already and yet nothing had happened.

“Not long enough,” Filippo said, and Elia smiled.

“We could make it more interesting,” he said, and Filippo looked skeptical.

“What’s more interesting than Leo and Kate?”

Shifting closer, Elia took a breath. “Me.”

Filippo’s eyebrows went up as Elia leaned into his space, blocking his view of the TV. He set his hands on Filippo’s shoulders, hoping Filippo wouldn’t laugh him off, but Filippo didn’t.

Instead, he shook his head just once, a smile tugging at his lips. “Confident, aren’t you?”

More confident than before, Elia thought as he leaned into Filippo’s neck, lips ghosting over his skin. He’d been waiting all week for this, had been thinking about getting Filippo’s lips on his again, coming up with any excuse to make it happen.

“Isn’t this what friends do?” he asked, and he heard Filippo laugh, felt Filippo’s warm hand come up to rest against his back.

“Certain types of friends,” he allowed, and Elia nodded, nose brushing over Filippo’s cheek, eyes flicking to Filippo’s.

“And aren’t we?”

He caught Filippo’s smile, gentle, amused, the way his lips parted before he spoke. 

“Apparently,” he said, and Elia grinned. “But seriously, if you want to make out, we’re going to have to change the movie. I can’t disrespect Leo like that.”

“Okay,” Elia agreed, sliding back as Filippo got up to change the DVD, unable to stop his smile as he sunk into the couch. This was going to be good.

*

_Since we never finished Titanic, your bisexual education will have to continue with something else._

Elia smiled at the text from Filippo, almost missing the way Luca flipped the controller across the foosball table.

“Ha!” Luca cried as he scored a goal and Elia looked up from his phone.

“Hey,” he protested as Luca gloated, tapping the table.

“You’re looking at your phone. You get scored on.”

Shaking his head, Elia rolled his eyes and grabbed the ball. “No need to be jealous that I’ve got people to text, Luchi.”

“Is it the blue-haired girl?” Luca asked, concentrating on the game in a way Elia wasn’t. Luca was never jealous, and maybe that was what made Elia hesitate to answer. It wasn’t as if any of his friends would really care that he was making out with Filippo, that they spent half their time shamelessly flirting with each other. After Martino’s coming-out debacle, Elia figured anything else would be less dramatic.

A part of him just wanted people to know, so that he wouldn’t have to say it. Filippo was like that, with his pink hair and bright shirts. He didn’t have to tell anyone—they just knew. Not that there wasn’t danger in that for Filippo, but Elia wished he didn’t have to say it. Why couldn’t they just know?

But he didn’t tell Luca as they stood across the foosball table in the corner of the bar. He didn’t say anything about Filippo or the messages on his phone or that he didn’t care at all about the blue-haired girl.

Instead, he shrugged at Luca’s question and scored a goal on him easily. “What can I say? I’m very popular.”

Luca paused a second instead of retrieving the ball, and Elia raised his eyebrows in a question.

“Do you think Silvia likes you?” he asked finally, and Elia laughed, surprised.

“That doesn’t matter.”

Luca frowned, and Elia set his hands on the controller bars. Luca didn’t usually ask questions like that.

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t like her,” Elia said simply. “I wouldn’t date her if she was the last person on Earth.”

“Why?” Luca asked again, and for a second, Elia wondered why Luca was asking. Did he suspect? No. That was unlikely. Luca was always too wrapped up in his own head to pay attention to the things going on around him. Oblivious. That was Luca.

“She’s just not my type,” Elia said, watching Luca frown again. “Luchi, is everything okay?”

“I just don’t understand why no one likes her. I think she’s cute, and smart, and pretty.”

“Then you should ask her out.” He knew Luca had a thing for her—they all did, which was why it hadn’t made any sense, Marti and Gio trying to set Elia up with her. Luca may not have been the most handsome guy out there, but he was sincere.

Luca shook his head. “I don’t know what to say to her. I’m not good at this like you and Gio. Even Marti managed to get Nico.”

“It’s not as hard as you’re thinking,” Elia assured him, reaching across the table to shake his shoulder.

“How do you get girls?” Luca asked, eyes big, and Elia paused. He wasn’t thinking of girls, the blue-haired girl who had practically thrown herself at him, the one he’d immediately left once Filippo called him.

Shaking his head, he took his hand back and grabbed the ball from the goal. “Just compliment her. Girls love compliments.”

Luca nodded slowly and Elia flicked the ball onto the table. He was glad Luca didn’t ask any more questions as they played. He wasn’t sure he really had an answer for him.

*

“This isn’t why I asked you over,” Filippo muttered against Elia’s mouth, fingers buried in Elia’s hair, and Elia hummed, not bothering to open his eyes as he pulled Filippo back to his lips.

“Did you really need me to mat prints?”

“The big ones,” Filippo replied, and Elia smiled, grip tightening over Filippo’s shoulders as they lay on the couch, Filippo half on top of him, any photos they were supposed to be working on splayed haphazardly on the coffee table.

Elia didn’t care why Filippo had invited him over—if it really was to work on photos or if he’d planned for them to end up this way, vertical on the lumpy couch, Elia’s lips sore and red from kissing, his body comfortably warm underneath Filippo’s, Filippo’s knee sliding his legs apart.

Filippo’s lips were soft, sliding against Elia’s, his tongue following. His kisses were wet and slow, a deep stir somewhere in Elia’s stomach as they lay there. Elia’s hands slid from Filippo’s shoulders down to his sides, curling in his tee shirt as he kissed Filippo back, following the tilt of his head, the gentle pressure of his mouth against Elia’s bottom lip.

Elia didn’t usually go this slow, spend so much time making out. With girls, it was a hassle, something he had to endure before getting to the good stuff, but he wasn’t sure Filippo would see it that way. He wasn’t sure he did anymore either when Filippo’s tongue swept inside his mouth, tracing the ridges at the top, sliding against Elia’s tongue until Elia felt his face heating up.

His face wasn’t the only thing heating up as Filippo shifted on top of him, fingers pressing to Elia’s neck, nails trailing down the nape.

Elia’s hands bunched in the hem of Filippo’s shirt, tugging it up enough so that he could get his hand underneath, on the small of Filippo’s back, the soft, smooth skin. For a second, he waited for Filippo to brush his hand away, to pull back from his mouth and say it was too much. But he didn’t.

Elia felt the heat in his cheeks as he tugged at Filippo’s bottom lip with his teeth, flicking his tongue over the silver lip ring. He was pretty sure he could do this for hours, just lie here kissing Filippo, enjoying every lick of heat that spread through his body. 

He wasn’t sure he could ignore the blood rushing to his dick, the tingle in his lips when Filippo pulled back to take a breath. Elia couldn’t help noticing the flush on Filippo’s cheeks, how red his lips were, the slow drag of Filippo’s gaze to his mouth.

Swallowing, Elia wanted to pull Filippo back, to not think about where this was going next, if they were the kind of friends who would do something about how turned on he was getting. Elia jerked as his phone went off in his pocket, buzzing in a way that made him grit his teeth.

“Is that your phone?” Filippo asked, and Elia reached in to silence it without looking.

“It’s probably nothing.” Leaning into Filippo’s mouth, he let his tongue trace Filippo’s bottom lip, his lower body throbbing as Filippo’s hand landed on his ribcage. His phone buzzed with a message, but he ignored it in favor of pulling Filippo’s mouth back to his and licking into his mouth, biting down against the shiver at Filippo’s hips sinking into his, and there was no way Filippo couldn’t tell that Elia was hard now.

Elia let out a shaky breath as Filippo moved away, tongue sliding down his jaw, mouthing underneath as Elia swallowed, closing his eyes and biting his lip, fingers tightening over Filippo’s back.

The jiggle of the doorknob brought Elia crashing back to his senses, and he didn’t seem to need to tell Filippo as Filippo pulled back, sliding off Elia more gracefully than Elia would have been able to. He was across the couch before Eleonora stepped in the living room, pausing as she caught sight of both of them.

Squished on one end of the couch, Elia tried not to look suspicious, with his pink cheeks, reddened lips, his hair a mess from Filippo’s fingers in it, hands curled in his lap to hide his uncomfortable erection.

“Ele,” Filippo greeted her easily, as if he hadn’t just had his tongue in Elia’s mouth.

“What’s going on?” she asked, looking between them.

“Elia’s helping me with my photography project,” Filippo said. “I needed a model. And since my sister is too busy for her own brother, I had to seek outside help.”

Eleonora rolled her eyes, but Elia still didn’t feel safe as her gaze flicked to him. He didn’t really know her very well, if she would figure it out. She didn’t say anything, though, looking away from him at last.

“Just don’t make too much noise. I have homework to do.”

“Homework on a weekend?” Filippo called after her. “How are we related?”

Eleonora didn’t reply, and Elia heard her bedroom door shut a second later. He let out a breath, glancing at Filippo, who was staring after her.

“So,” Elia said after a minute, unsure where to go from here. He doubted they’d finish what they’d started with Eleonora home.

Filippo shifted out of his corner, back to the middle of the couch, reaching for the photographs scattered on the coffee table. He glanced at Elia with an easy smile on his face.

“How about we do what you came here to do?”

“Right,” Elia agreed, moving back over, and he smiled to himself as their thighs pressed together and he took the photos Filippo handed him instead.

*

Elia sighed at the messages in the group chat, the ones from Gio asking where he was and why he wasn’t at the square for football. The teams were uneven, Gio said, but the time stamp was hours ago as Elia tossed his phone aside and stared up at the ceiling of his bedroom.

He’d forgotten about football with the guys, and it was too late to send an excuse. He’d come up with one tomorrow. Hell, maybe he could even tell them the truth, he thought, squinting at the shapes the streetlamp made on the walls. Not that he’d been making out with Filippo, but that he’d been helping him with a project. It wasn’t a total lie.

Elia wasn’t even sure why he _was_ keeping the truth from the guys.

Rolling onto his side, Elia sighed. It was late—his mom had gone to bed hours ago and he was sure Camilla had sneaked out too. The whole apartment was silent as he lay there, tucking his arms across his chest.

Eleonora had stayed in her room the rest of the time Elia had been there which meant he hadn’t gotten so much as a squeeze on his arm from Filippo when he left. That was how it was supposed to be, Elia told himself, flopping onto his back again and closing his eyes.

He couldn’t sleep, his mind returning to that afternoon, to Filippo’s fingers anchored in his hair, Filippo’s teeth sinking into his bottom lip, Filippo’s knee nudging his legs apart and sliding in against him.

Licking his lips, Elia slid his hand down, pushing under his boxers as heat rose on his skin. It was so easy to let himself go, let his mind wander to what it had felt like with Filippo on top of him, heavy and hot.

Elia had never jerked off to a guy before—it had always been girl before, whoever he thought was hot at the moment. It was always girls’ soft curves in his mind, their long hair falling over their shoulders as they sucked him off. But now, it was pink hair he saw, short and soft, the scrape of stubble on his stomach as he saw Filippo sliding down.

Pulling on his cock, Elia bit back his noise even though there was no one to hear him. He wondered how different it would be, if Filippo would be better than the few blow jobs he’d gotten from girls. He thought he would be, would know exactly what to do to make Elia come.

Elia didn’t go slowly this time, jerking himself off as he pictured Filippo sliding to his knees. Biting his lip, he took a sharp breath as he came, stomach clenching as he fisted his cock and slumped into the mattress.

“Fuck,” he muttered to himself, blinking at the ceiling.

He wasn’t sure if that was ever going to happen with Filippo. Kissing was one thing—a friends thing—but he wasn’t really sure where the line was. He probably shouldn’t have been jerking off thinking of Filippo, but, he thought as he grabbed a tissue to clean up, what could it hurt?

*

Gio had been looking at him funny all morning, and Elia was trying to ignore it as they went on break, commandeering an empty classroom for themselves and perching on chairs. He’d already sent a text on Sunday about why he’d missed the footie game. That should have been the end of it.

“What?” Elia asked finally as Martino left to get coffee. 

Gio shrugged, unconvincing. “Nothing. I heard Sofia’s friend is into you.”

“Who?” he asked, though he wasn’t really interested. He should have been interested, he told himself as Gio watched him.

“Alessandra,” Gio said, and Elia frowned.

“Which one is that?”

“The one with blue hair.”

“Oh.” Elia nodded. “Yeah, we hooked up at a party a few weeks ago.”

Gio’s eyebrows went up, and Elia wasn’t sure why he was so surprised. Did his friends really think he was all talk? He could get a girl if he wanted. He could even get a guy if he wanted.

“I can’t believe you didn’t say anything,” Gio said, as though it was Elia’s job to report every girl he kissed to the group. “You always say something.”

Elia shrugged for lack of an explanation. Gio was right. He did always tell the guys, but he hadn’t this time. He hadn’t regaled them with tales of how she’d tried to lead him to a bedroom and he’d ducked away to talk to Filippo instead.

“What do you want to know?” he asked instead, brushing off Gio’s comment. “She’s a good kisser.”

“Nah, it’s just weird you didn’t say anything,” Gio said, and Elia was glad when Martino returned, Nico in tow.

“So what are we doing this weekend?” Elia asked, changing the subject despite Gio’s eyes on him.

“Filo invited me and Nico to the student art show at the university,” Martino said, nodding at Nico as Nico settled next to him on a desk, squished in beside him.

Elia’s gaze snapped to them at his words. Filippo hadn’t mentioned when the show was, and he definitely had not invited Elia to come.

“Just you guys?” he asked, hoping he didn’t sound annoyed or jealous or any of the weird emotions twisting his stomach.

Martino shrugged. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if you guys came too.”

“No thanks,” Gio said, waving Martino away. “Sofi and I are going to a concert on Saturday.”

“Are you an art connoisseur, Elia?” Nico asked, setting his chin on Martino’s shoulder, grinning at him. “You know, that’s how I impressed Marti.”

“Shut up,” Martino said, but his cheeks were pink.

Why hadn’t Filippo invited him? After all, Elia had helped him with the project, even been his model for part of it. And they were friends. Friends invited friends to things like this.

“You could bring Alessandra,” Gio said from behind Elia, and Martino looked confused.

“Who?”

Shaking his head, Elia jerked his shoulders. “I don’t need to go.”

“Come on,” Martino said, rolling his eyes. “He won’t care if you come. What else are you gonna do?”

Elia didn’t really have an excuse not to go, not one that wasn’t, my hook-up didn’t invite me. Besides, what was he supposed to say when Martino and Nico saw the pictures of him in Filippo’s show?

“Okay, sure,” he said finally. After all, he wanted to know why Filippo hadn’t invited him himself. Maybe he would bring the blue-haired girl because he and Filippo were just friends. And that was what friends did.

*

Elia didn’t ask Alessandra. He didn’t even wave back when she saw him in the courtyard later in the week. He wasn’t trying to make Filippo jealous. He was just annoyed that Filippo hadn’t invited him himself. But it didn’t matter because was going with Martino and Nico.

The third wheel, that was what he was, Elia thought as he followed Martino and Nico up the stairs to the gallery on campus. He’d never been to the university, but he was impressed by the amount of people milling around the room, drinking glasses of wine and looking at the artwork up on the walls.

“I wonder where Filo’s are,” Martino said, glancing around, and Elia was looking too, but not for the art.

“Marti! Nico!” Filippo appeared through the crowd, beaming at them, surprised as he saw Elia. “And Elia.”

Elia met his gaze, and Filippo’s smile didn’t falter.

“Come on, my stuff’s over here,” he said, hustling Martino away from the door and into the crowd. Elia followed, not missing the way Filippo shot a look back over his shoulder. Filippo’s photographs were in a far corner, and Elia hung back as Martino and Nico went to look. He watched Filippo stroll back to him. “Surprised you came.”

“You mean because you didn’t invite me?” Elia asked, keeping his voice down so Martino and Nico wouldn’t hear.

“I figured you’d already seen them.” Filippo shrugged. “Surely an afternoon of pretentious art students wouldn’t be your thing.”

Glancing around, Elia made a face. Filippo was right in that respect. “Okay, I’d rather be playing FIFA, but this is your thing.”

Filippo smiled slowly, and Elia felt the now-familiar clench of his stomach.

“Is that Elia?” Nico asked, squinting at a photo. He turned to stare at Elia. “It is.”

Elia felt Filippo’s hand land on his shoulder, heavy. “He was kind enough to help me out,” Filippo said to Nico’s incredulous stare and Martino’s confused frown.

“Since when are you two friends?” Martino asked, and Elia shrugged.

“You’re not the only one allowed to have friends, Marti.”

“Asshole,” Martino replied, turning back to the photos.

“You want some wine?” Filippo asked, leaning into his ear, and the hairs on the back of Elia’s neck stood up. “You are eighteen, aren’t you?”

Elia nodded. “For a while now.”

Filippo nodded him away from the photos, and Elia followed, leaving Martino and Nico behind.

*

“Yours are the best here,” Elia said, squinting at what he thought was an abstract person on the canvas in front of him.

Filippo laughed. “You don’t know shit about art, Elia.”

Elia shrugged, turning to him. “I know yours are the best.” He may not have known anything about color theory or framing or lighting, but he knew he liked Filippo’s photos better than a mish-mash of what might have been a face. At least he knew what Filippo’s were.

Elia had lost track of Martino and Nico in the sea of students and parents, the room awash in wine and pretentious art students pretending they didn’t care about the compliments they were getting.

Filippo was on his second glass of wine, and Elia wondered if he should be off mingling with people who wanted to compliment him.

“What else is there to see?” he asked instead, turning to the room, and Filippo paused.

“Maria’s really into cubism,” he said, as though Elia knew who Maria was. “And Ludo did this series about light shadows. Mostly it was an excuse to get nude models, but it’s not bad.”

Elia smiled as he walked with Filippo, bumping his elbow. “Why didn’t you do nude shoots?”

“I’m not pretentious enough,” Filippo said as they stopped in front of a wall of photos, all sepia-toned, and all Elia saw was expanses of skin, artfully patterned with shadows. At Elia’s raised eyebrows, he smiled. “A photo is a lot more than just its subject.”

“They’re pretty hot,” Elia admitted as he took in the men and women in the photos, and he looked over when Filippo’s arm brushed his.

“I’m sure Ludo could hook you up, if you wanted.”

Elia didn’t want, not right now, and he opened his mouth to tell Filippo that, but a guy with sleek black curls and sharp cheekbones interrupted them.

“Fili!” The guy kissed both of Filippo’s cheeks in greeting. “Enjoying my work? I haven’t quite made it over to yours but I’m sure it’s beautiful.”

“Ludo, this is my friend, Elia,” Filippo said, nodding Elia forward, and even as Elia stuck out his hand, Ludo grabbed him by the shoulders and kissed his cheek, leaving Elia surprised in his wake.

“Gorgeous,” Ludo said, less a greeting and more a statement, and Elia shot Filippo a look. Filippo only bit back his grin, as though amused by the situation. “Maybe you can be in my next series. I’m thinking something raw and exposed. Naked, crying on the floor. Vulnerable.”

Elia had no idea what to say to that, and Filippo was no help, laughing at his expression.

“Fili, you have to be my model again,” Ludo went on without waiting for Elia’s answer. “I need your pretty face in my camera again.”

“I only do behind the camera these days,” Filippo said, setting a hand on Elia’s shoulder, flashing a smile at Ludo, who merely shrugged.

“Too bad. You were a wonderful subject. Oh, I see Giulia! I need to talk to her about dark room time. Ciao, babes!”

He bounced away as fast as he’d come in and Elia stared after him as he greeted some girl just as enthusiastically. He felt almost whiplashed as he blinked at Filippo. “What the fuck was that?”

“That was Ludo,” Filippo replied, which explained nothing.

“When were you his model?”

Filippo shook his head, turning to the photographs on the wall. “Not really a model. More like after-sex photos he put a black and white filter on and called it a series.”

“So you dated him,” Elia said slowly, watching Filippo shrug. He wasn’t sure why he cared who Filippo dated. He didn’t. Filippo could date whoever he wanted, even really tall model-like guys who wore sleek black jackets and put too much gel in their hair.

“I don’t really date people,” Filippo said, glancing at him for a second. “It gets too messy.”

“So you’re one of those guys,” Elia said, and Filippo’s eyebrows went up. “Afraid of commitment.” He smiled at Filippo’s expression, caught somewhere between insulted and amused.

“Yeah, what was the last relationship you had that lasted more than a night, my dear Elia?” Filippo teased, and he had a point. It wasn’t as if Elia had dated a ton of girls or knew anything about relationships.

“That proves nothing,” Elia said, and Filippo shrugged.

“Exactly.”

“So should I do it?” Elia asked, nodding at the photos. “Sleep my way to the top?”

Filippo laughed, shaking his head and patting Elia’s shoulder. “You might want to start smaller.”

“So nude photos.”

“I need more wine,” Filippo said, and Elia glanced back at Ludo’s photos as he went to find some.

*

The classroom was bright but empty, silent except for birds twittering out the large window and Elia looked up from his phone, the text from his mom asking when he’d be home, at the squeak of the door opening. He wasn’t surprised to find Filippo’s head sticking inside.

“Marti said you went to find a bathroom ten minutes ago,” he said as he stepped inside, the door swinging shut behind him. “You get lost?”

Elia smiled, tucking the phone away. “No.”

“You got bored,” Filippo supplied, sliding onto the table next to Elia, hip bumping into his.

“I didn’t want to be one of those people who ask to come somewhere then complain when they get bored,” he said simply, watching Filippo’s expression. “So I thought I’d wait for Marti and Nico to be done.” Filippo didn’t react except to bob his head slightly. “Shouldn’t you be in there being showered with compliments?”

“Yeah,” Filippo agreed, bumping his elbow gently. “Why’d you ask to come if you know you don’t like this stuff?”

Elia hesitated. “Because we’re friends, and it’s your show.”

“It’s a show for all visual artist students,” Filippo pointed out, and Elia elbowed him back.

“I wanted to make sure I was properly represented. In case you decided to photoshop my head on a different body.”

“I would never,” Filippo promised, setting his feet on a chair. 

“You are really good, though,” Elia said, glancing out the window where trees swayed in the wind, leaves rustling. He wasn’t talented at much of anything, especially not photography. All the photos on his Instagram were terrible selfies, him making stupid faces at the camera. “Much better than me.”

“I’m sure you’re good at something,” Filippo said, nudging Elia’s ankle with his foot, and Elia shook his head.

“Not really.” He smiled easily at Filippo, fighting the urge to brush his fingers through Filippo’s hair, the bright pink ends sticking up. “FIFA and football. I can beat you in either of those.”

“Those don’t count.” Filippo shook his head, and Elia shrugged.

“Then I guess it’s trade school for me.”

“All that confidence and not one thing you’re good at?” Filippo asked, sounding skeptical.

Sighing, Elia knew he could joke his way out of this, but Filippo was watching him like he actually cared about the answer, so he didn’t.

“Cooking,” he said finally. “I’m a good cook. I like cooking.”

“That’s something,” Filippo said. “Did your mom teach you?”

He paused for a second, frowning at the ugly tile on the floor, scuffed and dingy as though it was never cleaned quite often enough.

“When my parents got divorced, for a while, it was like they forgot they had kids. Trying to prove to each other they were still young and could do whatever they wanted. So I learned to cook so my sister and I wouldn’t have to live off pizza.” He jerked his shoulder easily, brushing off Filippo’s look. “They’re better now. Or at least, my mom is. My sister is a pain in the ass, though.”

Filippo smiled. “I know how that goes.”

For a moment, no one said anything and Elia stared across the classroom to the whiteboard at the end. He’d never spent any time at the university, always bypassing it with no reason to stop in. He supposed it was something he shouldn’t have been thinking about, at least vaguely in the future.

Thinking about the future only made Elia uneasy. He’d rather live in the moment than worry about what was coming.

“You know what I’ve always wanted to do?” he said when they sat there and Filippo leaned back on the table as if he had no intention of going back to the show. Filippo tilted his head to look at him in response to his question. “Hook up on a teacher’s desk.”

Filippo’s smile curled his lips. “Is that a student-teacher kink thing?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. You are older than me.”

Laughing, Filippo didn’t lean into him, sliding off the table instead, much to Elia’s disappointment. “There are plenty of things I could teach you, Elia,” he said, taking Elia’s wrist and pulling him onto his feet. “But Marti and Nico are wandering around out there unsupervised, and we should probably find them before Ludo ropes them into some erotica photoshoot.”

Elia let Filippo pull him towards the classroom door, dropping his wrist as they reached it.

“Have you ever done erotica shoots?”

Glancing back, Filippo only smirked as he opened the door and waited for Elia to leave first. “I’ll tell you the answer some day,” he said, but Elia took that as a yes, catching Filippo’s eye as he left the classroom and headed for the show.

*

Through the crowd, Elia spotted Eleonora dancing with Eva and Silvia under the blue lights flashing over the crowd, music blaring through the speakers, and Elia should have been paying attention to the girl who was eyeing him from across the room, bu he wasn’t. He was more interested in the fact that Eleonora was at the party and not at home.

“What are you looking at, _zi_?” Gio shouted as he shoved a beer into Elia’s hands.

“Nothing,” he replied. “Eva’s dress is really low-cut.”

Gio cuffed him on the back of his head and Elia rolled his eyes as Luca pushed his way through the crowd.

“Have you seen Silvia?”

Elia nodded across the crowd, and Luca craned up on his toes to look.

“Where’s Martino?” Gio asked Luca, doing a quick scan of the room. Elia didn’t see Martino or Nico anywhere.

“Marti had to call his mom and Nico went with him,” Luca said, still on his toes, watching Silvia dancing with Eva.

“That’s code for making out, bro.” Gio tipped his beer at Luca’s confused expression.

Elia didn’t care where Martino or Nico were, if they were making out in a bathroom or feeling each other up somewhere outside of the massive house they found themselves in—one of Edoardo Incanti’s rich friends who had nothing better to do than throw a giant party.

The girl from before, the one with chin-length wavy blond hair and a dress even lower-cut than Eva’s, caught his eye again, and he knew he should have been interested. He should have left the guys right now, brought her a drink and said something about how beautiful she was. She was beautiful, the kind of hot that made Elia think of getting his hands on her body, feeling the softness of her skin, the smear of red lipstick on his mouth.

But he didn’t really want to, not tonight, not when his phone vibrated in his pocket and he pulled it out, surprised to see Filippo’s name on the screen. Another pocket dial?

It was a text, though, and Elia opened the message.

**Filo**  
_There are no hot guys in this club_  
_I’m dying of boredom_  
_What are you doing?_

Checking up, Luca had Gio giving him advice on what to say to Silvia, so he typed his response.

_At a party_ , he wrote, hitting send as Gio looked up.

“Eli,” he said, jerking his head toward the blonde. “That girl’s been watching you all night.”

Great, now they’d noticed. He flashed Gio a smile as his phone vibrated again, and he turned the screen so they wouldn’t see Filippo’s name. “She’s hot.”

“Are you gonna go talk to her?”

Elia couldn’t help checking his phone as it vibrated again even though he knew he should answer Gio, say yes and go make out with her.

**Filo**  
_Ele’s not home  
Come over_

Elia knew Eleonora wasn’t home because he was looking right at her, but all he could think was that Filippo was inviting him over, not to watch a movie or work on framing photographs.

“It’s my sister,” he said instead of answering Gio, tucking the phone away, almost too eager. “She lost her keys. I think she’s wasted.” Ignoring Gio and Luca’s stares, he jerked his shoulder. “I’ve gotta let her in so our mom doesn’t find out.”

“You’re leaving a hot girl to get your sister out of trouble?” Gio asked, eyebrows in his hairline. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Like you wouldn’t do it for your brother,” Elia said, and he was already trying to figure out bus routes in his head as Gio frowned. 

“Yeah, but I like my brother.”

Rolling his eyes, Elia didn’t bother responding to that. “If I do Cami a favor, she’ll owe me. Simple as that. I’ll see you guys later.”

Weaving past Eleonora and her friends, Elia left the guys behind, not even bothering to check if the blonde girl was still watching.

*

Elia grinned when Filippo opened the door to his apartment, dim inside, a single lamp turned on as though Filippo just got there a few minutes ago.

“Hey,” Elia greeted him, coming inside without waiting for Filippo to invite him.

Filippo shut the door behind him, kicking off his shoes and meeting Elia’s smile with one of his own.

“Ciao,” he said, and Elia took a second to let his eyes wander down Filippo’s outfit, the soft lavender tee shirt falling to his skinny jeans, tucked in the front carefully, white socks looking comfortable against the wood floor.

Filippo nodded him in, away from the front door, and Elia stopped in the living room, turning to Filippo. He had a pretty good idea why he was there, but he still wanted to hear it.

“Nobody you wanted to hook up with at the club?”

Rolling his shoulders, Filippo passed Elia, heading down the hall, and Elia only hesitated a second before following. He’d never seen Filippo’s room, and somehow he wasn’t surprised by how messy it was, dark sheets wrinkled and untucked, mustard-yellow pillows scattered all over the floor.

Flopping on the bed, Filippo pulled off his socks and tossed them into a corner. “Nobody decent. I just feel like I really need a blow job, you know?”

Elia swallowed as he stood in the doorway. “Yeah, yeah.”

He’d gone down on girls before, had girls go down on him, but until a few months ago, he hadn’t thought about doing it to a guy. Not that he was averse to trying, though he felt a twinge of nerves as he didn’t move from the doorway.

Filippo tilted his head to the side at Elia. “You okay?”

“I’m good,” Elia said, jerking himself out of his thoughts and sliding off his shoes before Filippo could ask again, moving to the bed and stepping between Filippo’s legs, unable to stop his smile when Filippo’s hands came up to rest on his hips. Sliding his arms over Filippo’s shoulders, he leaned down slowly, taking a breath as Filippo’s mouth tilted up to his, and he decided he didn’t need to think about this.

Filippo’s kisses were warm and sharp as he tugged Elia down, scooting further onto the mattress so Elia could sink into his lap, knees bracketing his legs as Elia leaned into Filippo’s chest. He shivered at Filippo’s hands sliding under his shirt, up his back, fingernails scraping over his shoulder blades.

His skin was hot where Filippo touched him, shirt wrinkled as Filippo pushed it up, exposing his stomach. His hands twined into Filippo’s hair as he shifted, up, kissing Filippo hard and moaning at the tight pressure in his jeans. He should have been embarrassed, but he wasn’t, not with Filippo’s tongue in his mouth, Filippo’s hand sliding to his ass and squeezing.

Fuck, he wanted this, he thought, pushing his hips into Filippo’s, a sharp prick of heat in his stomach at the throb of his cock.

“Whose party was it?” Filippo asked in between biting kisses, the way Elia got him on his back, pausing only to yank off his own shirt so Filippo could get his hands all over his chest. Elia was already flushed as Filippo’s fingers traced the lines of his rib cage, and he couldn’t help leaning in to lick the freckles on Filippo’s neck.

“Some friend of Edoardo Incanti’s,” he muttered, biting at the soft skin below Filippo’s ear. He felt Filippo jerk, nails digging into his skin, sharp, almost painful, but it just made him harder. He closed his eyes at Filippo’s hand moving to his hair, thumb brushing over his forehead before carding through the locks, pulling his mouth away from his neck.

“No hot girls there?” he asked, meeting Elia’s eyes for a second, but Elia’s gaze was on Filippo’s mouth, blood rushing from his brain, pooling in his stomach as he thought that he was really going to do this.

“A few.” Elia didn’t care about the girls he could be hooking up with right now, not when he had Filippo underneath him, grabbing the hem of his soft tee shirt and pulling, getting it over his head. It was the first time they’d gotten this far, the first time Elia got to slide his hands over Filippo’s chest, the colorful owl tattoo on his side.

Elia’s jeans were too tight as he swallowed, gaze wandering down Filippo’s chest, down to the waist of his jeans, a trail of dark hair disappearing underneath.

“Elia,” Filippo said, as though he was going to say something stop this, to ask why he would leave a hot girl at a party to hang out with him, but Elia didn’t want to think about why. He knew why, and it had to do with how hard he was as he pressed his lips to Filippo’s chest, shaking away any nerves as he moved down, dragging his tongue over Filippo’s skin. He didn’t want Filippo to think about it either, and he sucked a nipple into his mouth, hearing Filippo’s soft groan above him.

He could see how hard Filippo was in his jeans, see the outline of his cock, and a thrill ran through Elia’s stomach as he let his gaze rest on it for a second, just long enough to get nervous again. Shifting back, he pressed a kiss to Filippo’s hip bone, teeth scraping down as he felt Filippo arch into the touch.

Reaching for the button on Filippo’s jeans, Elia pushed aside any nerves, eagerness overtaking him as he got it apart and slid the zipper down, the sound loud in the quiet apartment.

“Elia, wait,” Filippo said, sudden, sharp, a hand reaching for his shoulder. “You don’t have to do this.”

Elia didn’t hesitate, tugging Filippo’s jeans over his hips, almost not surprised that Filippo wasn’t wearing underwear, and his stomach did a little flip as Filippo’s cock came free. He knew Filippo was watching him, and he glanced up, ignoring the pressure blossoming in his chest.

“There’s a good possibility I’m gonna be shit at this,” he said instead of arguing with Filippo, catching Filippo’s tiny huff of amusement. “But I want to.”

Filippo seemed to accept that as his head fell back on the mattress and he sighed. “I can help you out,” he said, squeezing Elia’s shoulder. “First piece of advice is no teeth.”

Rolling his eyes, Elia relaxed a little, tugging Filippo’s jeans all the way off and coming back to his cock. “I know that.”

Just because he’d never sucked a dick didn’t mean he didn’t know how it was supposed to go.

“Take your time,” Filippo murmured as Elia leaned in, closing his eyes as he breathed in Filippo’s scent, felt the warmth of Filippo’s inner thigh against his lips. He could do this, he told himself, spreading Filippo’s legs apart, taking a breath as he licked up his thigh, coming face to face with Filippo’s prick.

It was bigger than he’d imagined, a solid weight in his hand as he slid his fingers down the length, different than his own.

“Okay, but not too much time,” Filippo said a second later, and Elia laughed, shaking himself out of his thoughts and letting out a breath as he wrapped his fist around Filippo’s cock and pulled. He knew how he liked it, usually too fast to really enjoy it when he needed to get off, but he wasn’t going to do that this time.

Filippo’s prick was hot against his tongue as he leaned in, testing the waters, sucking slowly at the tip and grimacing at the taste. In his mind, this was easy, taking Filippo in his mouth and sucking until he came, until Filippo was gasping his name. In real life, it was a little fumbling, a little too sloppy as he moved back and forth, the slick slide of Filippo’s dick against the inside of his cheek.

“You get points for enthusiasm,” Filippo breathed, hand moving to Elia’s hair, scrunching into the locks as Elia moved back in, sucking in air through his nose. 

Elia heard his breath as he slid his tongue over Filippo’s cock, moving in to suck as much as he could. Filippo’s fingers tightened in his hair, a tingle erupting on his skin at the sudden pain, and it turned him on more than it should. 

“Wait, wait,” Filippo said, sharp. “Hold it there, _fuck_ , wait.”

Elia’s cock throbbed in his jeans as he stayed there, Filippo’s dick in his mouth as he sucked, held his tongue against the base, listened to Filippo’s sighed curses, felt the strain in Filippo’s hips under his hands.

“Okay,” Filippo murmured after a moment, swallowing thickly, fingers releasing Elia’s hair. “Slowly. Or I’m gonna come.”

Elia wanted that. He wanted Filippo to come in his mouth, all over his face, dripping down his chin, wet and sticky and hot. Just the thought made him shiver, sliding in to mouth along the length of Filippo’s cock, suck on the underside, trace his tongue over the ridges. He wanted Filippo to come arching into his mouth, unable to stop himself.

“Elia,” Filippo said, breathed into the silence of the bedroom, and his fingers clenched around the sheets seconds before he came.

Elia didn’t mean to jerk back, closing his eyes and letting out a breath as he felt Filippo’s release hit his chest. Letting out a long breath, he sat back, taking in Filippo underneath him, completely naked, looking totally relaxed amongst the wrinkled sheets.

“You’re gonna be a fast learner, huh,” Filippo muttered as he opened his eyes, running a hand through his hair, letting it flop to the side as he sighed. His eyes flicked to Elia at the end of the bed. “I suppose you want to get off too.”

“Fucker.” Elia grinned, though, shaking his head as he flopped down next to Filippo, unsure what exactly he meant by that. His cock was unbearably hard in his jeans, and if Filippo kicked him out without any release, he might die.

Filippo only laughed, rolling to face him, drawing Elia in closer with a hand on the back of his neck. “Come here.”

Taking a breath, Elia scooted in closer, ready for whatever Filippo wanted to do, his heart beating faster at Filippo’s breath hitting his chin, Filippo’s free hand slipping down his chest to flick his jeans open.

Elia couldn’t help the breath he took as Filippo’s warm palm wrapped around his cock and slid it from his jeans. Licking his lips, he swallowed at the first tug, Filippo shifting in closer until their bodies were pressed together.

“Tell me about the party,” Filippo said, words murmured into Elia’s neck, and Elia couldn’t really focus, not with the way Filippo parted his thighs, let Elia’s cock slide between them, everything too slow, too hot.

“Boring,” Elia managed to say as heat pooled in his stomach, his dick hard as he pushed it between Filippo’s thighs, rubbing himself off on the tight warmth of his skin. He’d never done this before, never gotten off like this, with Filippo’s hand tight on the back of his neck, the other keeping his hips steady as he pushed his cock between his legs, slick and not hard enough as he bit back the flush on his cheeks.

“Weren’t your friends there?”

Elia nodded, jerking his head, mouth falling open, and he meant to say something, about Martino and Nico sneaking off to make out or about Luca’s desperation to date Silvia, but all that came out was a gasp, a sharp breath against Filippo’s collarbone, fingers digging into his sides as he came, an abrupt clench deep in his gut. 

“Shit,” he cursed instead, taking a deep breath as the tingle on his skin receded, his whole body warm and soft as he lay there.

Elia didn’t regret leaving the party at all, blinking slowly and letting Filippo slide back from him, rolling onto his back. He’d rather do this any day.

“So I guess we’re friends that do that,” Elia said finally, smiling over at Filippo, who didn’t return it, still lying naked next to him.

“Yeah.”

“I should probably get home,” Elia said, though he didn’t move. Filippo’s bed was too comfortable, soft and squishy, the sheets gentle against his bare skin. It smelled vaguely of mango.

Filippo hummed in response, as though he wasn’t quite alert either. “I need a shower.”

It was definitely a lot messier than sex with girls, Elia admitted as he glanced down at his chest. Martino had never mentioned anything about that, but Martino was also extremely closed-lipped when it came to his sex life. No one had ever asked either—Luca would have been the only one to try.

Elia didn’t want to move, but it was late and he couldn’t stay here all night even if the thought of waking up to morning blow jobs was appealing.

“Alright,” he said finally, pushing himself up and grabbing a tissue from the bedside table, wiping off what he could as he cleaned himself up and jerked his jeans back up. Glancing over his shoulder, he caught Filippo’s gaze. “I’ll see you later.”

Filippo did smile this time, and Elia’s stomach did a stupid little flutter. Sliding off the bed, he grabbed his shirt and pulled it on, leaving Filippo spread out on his bed.

He didn’t stop his smile as he left the bedroom, shoes in hand, heading for the living room. It was better than he’d imagined, more than he’d thought would happen way back at that party where Filippo had said he wasn’t interested, so dismissively, like he hadn’t even given it a thought. Things had certainly changed.

Hopping a little, Elia got his shoes on in the hall, slipping them on and stepping out. He froze as he came face to face with Eleonora, heart jumping into his throat.

Eleonora came to a halted stop, frowning at him as they stood in the living room, silence all around them.

“I,” he said haltingly, even though he couldn’t think what came next. This wasn’t supposed to happen. No one was supposed to know. He swallowed thickly as she stared at him, confused, but he could see her putting it together, much faster than anyone else would, eyes flicking behind him to Filippo’s door. “I was just...” He pointed vaguely at the front door, but anxiety welled up in his chest as he didn’t move. “Please don’t tell anyone.”

Eleonora’s eyebrows went up, but she closed her mouth resolutely as she shook her head. “I wouldn’t.”

He didn’t feel relieved, but he nodded anyway, edging away from her for the door.

“Elia,” she said as he reached it, and he grimaced, turning despite himself.

No one was supposed to know about whatever he and Filippo were doing. He hadn’t even told his best friends yet, and he was starting to feel like an asshole for not doing it. He didn’t know what Eleonora thought was going on, but it probably wasn’t good.

She stood behind him, glancing down the hall at Filippo’s door and back to him. “Try not to get attached,” she said quietly. “Filo doesn’t have a great track record at keeping guys around.”

Frowning, Elia wasn’t sure why she was telling him that. He reached for the doorknob instead, shaking his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” It wasn’t as if he was in love with Filippo or something. They weren’t boyfriends.

Eleonora didn’t say anything else, and Elia left the apartment, pausing in the dark hall. He wasn’t getting attached. It was just hooking up, friends with benefits. It was his first time with a guy, something Filippo had warned him against, and he wasn’t stupid enough to fall for Filippo.

At least, he didn’t think he was.

Glancing back, Elia frowned at the door. He wasn’t going to fuck this up, whatever it was.

*

Sighing at the stained glass window high above him, Eia rolled his eyes as Camilla jostled in next to him on the pew. Their mom stood talking to someone in the aisle, and he wished he’d been able to come up with an excuse to get out of going to mass, not that his mom would accept anything less than death as a reason to miss.

“You owe me big time,” Camilla said, leaning into him as people filled the seats around them, soft music bouncing off the church’s cavernous ceiling.

Frowning, Elia turned to her. “For what?”

She didn’t reply for a moment, pulling her thick, dark hair into a ponytail, out of her face, and he knew his mother had probably told her not to. “I heard you come home at two this morning,” she said, keeping her voice low. “The walls are paper thin and you aren’t exactly stealthy.”

“So?” It wasn’t any business of hers what time he came home. He was eighteen. If anyone should worry about curfew, it would be her.

She shrugged, casually, as if she didn’t care one way or the other. “So when mom asked what time you got home, I said you were snuggled in bed by eleven.” She smirked at him, eyes bright. “You owe me.”

“I don’t owe you shit,” Elia said, earning himself a dirty look from the women seated in front of him.

“You know mom would take your phone and your laptop if she knew you were out all night. I saved your ass.”

Elia hated to admit it, so he didn’t, rolling his eyes and slumping against the hard back of the pew. He envied Martino sometimes, Martino, who was an only child, who didn’t have anyone to blackmail him into doing shit for them.

“What do you want?” he asked finally, eyes on his mom as she slid into the pew finally, the aisle clearing as the service was about to start.

Camilla smiled, too easily. “I’ll let you know.”

“Be quiet, you two,” their mom hissed from down the row and Elia sat back resolutely.

“Whoever she is, I hope she’s worth it,” Camilla whispered as the priest entered with the procession. 

Elia didn’t reply. He could only imagine what Camilla would say if she knew it wasn’t a girl–probably less than his mother if she knew it wasn’t a girl. He wasn’t naive enough to think his parents would be as accepting as Martino’s mom.

The question remained, though, was Filippo worth it?

It wasn’t as if he and Filippo were dating or doing anything other than hooking up on occasion. So what if Elia had walked away from a hot girl the other night to go see Filo? So what if it was the second time in a month? He just hadn’t felt like hooking up with them. It wasn’t a big deal.

But if it wasn’t a big deal, wouldn’t he have told the guys? he thought as the priest began the service and he tuned out the rites. He hadn’t told the guys because he hadn’t been sure he even liked guys, was bisexual, whatever they wanted to call it. There was no point in making an issue out of something that he wasn’t sure about.

He was sure now, though, sure that he liked boys and girls, that if given the chance to have a threesome, he’d be equally interested in both parties. He was sure that he liked Filippo.

He was going to be struck down, he thought as he focused his gaze on the cross hung on the altar, thinking about this in church. A perfect ending to his somewhat average life so far.

He liked Filippo. He liked hanging out with him, kissing him, getting off with him. Elia had never been very good with secrets. He wore his heart on his sleeve, everything out in the open because what was the point of covering it up? It was how he’d gotten his mom’s attention back when she’d been fluttering around with strange guys and leaving him to fend for himself. She’d come back, become a mom again, and even if he sometimes wished he could get away with murder, he’d take the trade out of Sunday mass and dinner every night.

This was a secret, though, why he kept ditching hook ups, and he knew sooner or later, his friends would get tired of trying to figure it out. The last thing he wanted was another blow-out like Martino last year.

Sighing, he rose with the congregation, not really listening to what anyone was saying, what he was supposed to be saying. Camilla elbowed him in the side and he elbowed her back.

Ignoring the look his mother shot them both, Elia set his gaze on the stained glass and tuned out everyone around him. He didn’t want to think about this anymore.

*

“Well, you completely missed it,” Gio said as he and Martino entered the courtyard, spinning the football in his hands.

“Missed what?” Elia tucked his phone away, sliding away from the wall where he’d been waiting for the last five minutes, annoyingly early, though it had given him time to text Filippo that he wasn’t going to watch any romantic comedies with him.

Filippo’s response had been several inappropriate emojis that Elia had smiled at.

“After you bailed on the party last weekend, Luca actually got up the balls to ask Silvia to dance.”

Elia’s eyebrows went up. He hadn’t thought that would ever happen, not even with Gio’s Love Wizard advice that really only worked that one time. “And how much did he have to drink to get over the rejection afterward?”

Gio and Martino exchanged a glance, and Elia frowned. He had definitely missed something.

“He didn’t,” Martino said, a grin spreading over his face. “She danced with him.”

“Seriously? Good for Luchi.”

“I can’t believe you left early,” Martino said, taking the ball from Gio’s hands and letting it bounce to the ground. “You’ve never left a party early unless you were falling down drunk.”

“I told you,” he said, looking at Gio, who nodded.

“Yeah, your sister. Did she get home okay?”

Sighing, Elia stole the ball from Martino, rolling it under the ball of his foot and pausing. It wasn’t as though they’d ever know he lied. Camilla never talked to his friends. He could just keep it going, the lie, let his friends believe he’d bailed on a hot girl, on finally seeing Luca make progress with Silvia, to let his drunk little sister into the house.

Swallowing, he kicked the ball back to Martino. “I didn’t leave to help Cami.”

He caught the way Martino looked at Gio first, the way Gio frowned, a concerned crease to his eyebrows.

This didn’t have to be a big thing, he decided as he bit his tongue and looked away from them. “I have to tell you guys something.”

“Uh oh,” Martino said. “Elia’s being serious.”

He knew it was supposed to be teasing, but even Martino didn’t sound sarcastic this time. Gio didn’t say anything, waiting.

Late afternoon sun filtered down through the trees, bright against the white buildings encircling the courtyard, weeds growing through the cracks in the stones on the ground. It was hot on the back of Elia’s neck and he hated that he was actually nervous, as though it would change anything between them.

He just had to do it. Just say it and get the weight off his chest.

“I’m bi,” he said, watching Martino’s eyebrows go up, watching the way Gio didn’t react at all.

Elia didn’t know how this was supposed to go, but he wasn’t expecting Martino to scoff and cuff him on the shoulder.

“God, I thought you were gonna say your mom was sick or something.”

Elia wasn’t sure what to say to that. “So…”

“So don’t get any ideas about stealing Nico,” Martino joked, but he paused after a second, frowning. “That’s what you wanted to tell me, a few weeks ago.”

Elia jerked his shoulders. He’d tried, before, but the words hadn’t come out. He hadn’t been ready yet, but he was now.

Martino smiled a second later. “You’re bi. That’s cool.”

Looking at Gio, Elia let out a breath, relieved somehow as Gio nodded at him, a smile curving his lips.

“We love you, even if you’re annoying as shit sometimes.”

“Fuck off,” Elia said, but he felt a thousand times better, just saying it, getting it out in the open.

Gio patted his shoulder reassuringly, and Elia actually smiled. He didn’t feel as hot now, as though the sun had diminished, not shining directly down on him like a spotlight.

“What does that have to do with the party, though?” Martino asked, head tilting to the side. “If you didn’t leave to help Cami…”

“There’s a guy,” Gio finished for Martino, and Elia hated how self-satisfied he looked at figuring it out. “That’s why you bailed on that blonde girl.”

“What blonde girl?”

Gio waved his hand dismissively. “You were too busy making out with Nico.”

Elia ignored Martino’s insulted face. “There’s not a guy, not really.”

“Not really?” Martino asked, sounding skeptical. “The way Nico was a not really for a while?”

“No,” Elia said simply. “We’re not dating or anything. I’m not in love with him. We’re hanging out. That’s all.”

“Good for you,” Gio said, sincere, as though he wasn’t the guy who constantly preached the benefits of relationships.

It wasn’t like Martino and Niccolò—it wasn’t some epic love story. It was making out with Filippo instead of doing his homework, watching Titanic for the second time because they never made it through the first time. It was going to Filippo’s art show to support him, texting him in the middle of the day because he was bored, and Filippo always had an answer for him.

“He’s at least not in a relationship with someone else, right?” Martino asked, kicking the ball at Elia’s ankles.

Elia stopped it before it could smack into his shins. He shrugged. “I don’t think so.” He was pretty sure Filippo didn’t have some boyfriend somewhere he was cheating on with Elia. “It wouldn’t matter if he was.”

“You’re that chill, huh?” Gio asked with a smirk.

“I don’t need a relationship to be happy,” Elia pointed out. “He can sleep with whoever he wants to and so can I.”

“So you’ve been hooking up with other people?” Gio asked, and Elia knew he knew the answer. He’d very obviously walked out on a girl in favor of Filippo the other day. He didn’t want to think about why.

“What’s with all the questions?” he asked instead, bouncing the ball on his foot but stumbling as Gio punched his shoulder.

“We’re being supportive friends, jackass,” he said with a grin, nodding at Martino. “Right, Marti?”

Martino nodded. “Right. But if you’d rather we beat you in a match, we can do that too.”

Rolling his eyes, Elia did smile as Gio retrieved the ball where it had rolled off into the flowers. It was only after they started playing that Elia realized they’d never asked who it was, and maybe for now, it was better they didn’t. At least he wasn’t carrying around this secret anymore, and Elia felt better than he had in a long while.

*

The curtains on Filippo’s windows weren’t really curtains, more like sheets pinned across the window, letting sunlight fall in awkwardly-shaped slats across the room, traveling over the bed, warm on Elia’s ankle as he accidentally kicked the laptop, sliding on top of Filippo.

“I get it,” Filippo said, a hand gripping the back of Elia’s neck, the other tugging his shirt up his chest. “You’re not into romantic comedies. No need to kill the laptop.”

“You shouldn’t have the same taste in movies as my fifteen year-old sister,” Elia pointed out, helping Filippo pull his shirt off, rolling onto his back, Filippo’s heavy weight on top of him, spreading his legs for Filippo’s knee to slide between them.

Closing his eyes, Elia didn’t care about what movie they were supposed to be watching—whatever excuse this was to come over to Filippo’s apartment, to hole up in his room because Eleonora might be home at any moment. Instead, he let out a slow breath as Filippo’s mouth dropped to his collarbone, sucking a deep bruise into the skin.

He got his fingers in Filippo’s hair, biting back his noise as Filippo’s teeth scraped over his collarbone, not enough to really hurt, but enough that his cock jumped to attention, and he pushed his hips up into Filippo’s.

“I’m an art student,” Filippo murmured into Elia’s chest. “I watch pretentious films all the time. Let me have my happy endings.”

Elia laughed, arching into Filippo with Filippo’s mouth on his chest, leaving bruises all down his ribcage. It was a good thing it wasn’t summer and he wouldn’t have to take his shirt off in front of other people any time soon.

His jeans were tight as he rolled his hips into Filippo’s, feeling the way Filippo pulled away from his chest, gentle, heart-stopping kisses pressed up his sternum, along the curve of his shoulder. Filippo tilted Elia’s head to the side so he could mouth along his jaw, and Elia managed a shaky breath, digging his hands into Filippo’s sides and wishing he’d thought to wear looser jeans.

He was hard, too much pressure yet not enough as he wrapped his leg around Filippo’s and pushed up against him, aching for something more than the friction of Filippo’s thigh against his cock.

But Filippo didn’t let him, didn’t let him get his hands in between them, get their jeans open.

“Haven’t you ever gotten off like this?” Filippo asked as he shoved Elia’s hand away from his waistband, pressing his wrist to the mattress instead.

Swallowing, Elia shook his head, dizzy with want as Filippo’s hips rolled into his, not quite enough, and he didn’t bite back his groan this time. He was pretty sure he could come just like this, with Filippo on top of him, the throb of heat in his cock, rough fabric sending jolts up his spine every time he moved, every time Filippo ground his hips down.

It was so good, Elia found himself thinking, lost in Filippo’s mouth on his neck, not even thinking about the mark he was surely leaving behind. It was so easy to close his eyes, suck in a sharp breath as heat stole over his body, cheeks pink, hair mussed from Filippo’s hands earlier.

Licking his lips, he let himself go, meeting Filippo’s hips thrust for thrust, hot and hard and sweaty as he clung to Filippo. 

There were a million other things he should have been doing on a Wednesday afternoon—homework, cleaning his room so his mom didn’t throw a fit, playing FIFA with the guys—but Elia couldn’t think of any of them with Filippo’s tongue licking up his neck, sucking behind his ear until Elia whimpered, undignified, toes curling.

Rolling them over, he caught Filippo’s surprised expression a second before Elia kissed him, long and hard, chasing his tongue as he ground his hips down, needing the leverage, so close to coming just from this.

Filippo hummed against his lips when the kiss broke, Elia panting into his mouth, the flush hot on the back of his neck as he felt Filippo’s erection tight against his, through too many layers of fabric, everything spinning as he groaned.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he muttered as Filippo’s hands landed on his hips, arching up into him, pulling him in tight until Elia shuddered, stomach clenching as he came, uncomfortably wet in his jeans. “Filo.”

Holding himself up, hands on the mattress, he saw Filippo swallow, Adam’s apple working as he closed his eyes. He knew Filippo was still hard, hadn’t come yet, and he didn’t pull away, pushing his mouth against Filippo’s for a kiss he felt all the way to his toes.

He felt more than heard Filippo come, the way his body stiffened underneath him, the stutter of his breath in Elia’s ear. Elia didn’t curse at the tiny pinpricks of heat on his skin as he slumped down on top of Filippo.

Taking a deep breath, he felt the thud of his heartbeat in his chest as they lay there, and he knew he should get up, but he didn’t want to.

“You’re heavy,” Filippo said after a minute, but his fingers were carding through Elia’s hair, and Elia rolled his eyes.

“Well, my jeans are ruined because of you,” he said instead, glancing up as Filippo shrugged.

He probably shouldn’t have been lying on Filippo’s chest, he thought, sliding over after a second, onto his back.

“It’ll come out in the wash,” Filippo replied, tilting his head to smile at Elia. Elia felt a strange flutter deep in his chest at Filippo’s deep brown eyes resting on him, and he wanted to reach out and smooth his thumb over his jawline, the scratchy stubble there.

“I suppose you’ve had a lot of experience,” he said, before the feeling could take over his whole body.

Filippo laughed. “More than you. Here, take them off. I’ll lend you some sweatpants unless you want to walk home like that.”

Struggling out of his uncomfortable jeans, Elia didn’t even hesitate and dropped them to the side of the bed and turned back to Filippo.

He opened his mouth to ask another question, another question that had burrowed into his brain since Gio had asked the other day, if Filippo was hooking up with anyone else, but the sound of the front door shutting stopped him and he glanced at Filippo’s door, closed tight.

“Eleonora,” Filippo said, almost a groan as he stretched.

“She knows.”

Filippo’s eyebrows went up, surprised, and Elia shrugged.

“I ran into her the other night.”

Filippo didn’t seem concerned, nodding slowly, but he was watching Elia. “You don’t have to worry. She won’t tell anyone.”

Shifting onto his side, Elia perched on his elbow, gazing down at Filippo. He wasn’t worried about Eleonora telling people, not anymore, and he smiled easily.

“I told the guys, Gio and Marti,” he said to Filippo’s surprised expression.

“About me?”

“Well, about me,” Elia admitted. “They didn’t seem to care about you.”

“Rude,” Filippo muttered, but he fixed Elia with an unexpectedly serious gaze. Elia felt his chest seize up, nervous suddenly. “But they took it okay?”

“Of course,” Elia replied. He had never doubted that they wouldn’t—it was just the matter of saying it out loud, unable to take it back that had freaked him out.

“Good.”

“How was it?” Elia said after a pause, eyes flicking up Filippo’s face. “When you came out?”

“I didn’t really have to come out,” Filippo admitted, meeting Elia’s gaze. “In case you haven’t noticed, I don’t really blend in. Never have.”

“It’s the pink hair,” Elia said, smiling as he brushed his fingertips over the ends.

“It was everything,” Filippo said. “People just knew I was different before I said anything, so it wasn’t a big deal with my friends. My parents, on the other hand…”

Elia had definitely noticed that his parents weren’t around, though he’d never bothered to ask where they were.

“They didn’t take it well?” he asked when Filippo trailed off and didn’t finish his sentence. He was pretty sure if he ever told his mom he liked both boys and girls, she might have a heart attack. Surely she would spend the rest of eternity praying for his soul.

Shaking his head, Filippo pushed himself up to meet Elia, facing each other. “Not everyone is going to take it well,” he said instead of answering the question. “So you should keep those friends of yours close.”

“I plan to. And I definitely don’t plan on telling my parents any time soon.”

Filippo nodded understandingly. “Your first responsibility is to yourself and your safety.”

He was right, Elia had to admit as he smiled at Filippo. He didn’t even want to think what his dad might do if he found out, not that he had much say these days. The most time Elia spent at his house was a few weekends a month. “Did you give Marti this wise advice too?” he asked as Filippo flopped back onto the mattress.

“He was having boy troubles. Completely different set of advice.”

“And I don’t have boy troubles?”

Filippo scoffed. “I’m no trouble. Unless there’s someone else you need help with.”

“No.” Elia shook his head. “There’s no other guy.”

“What about girls? I’m good at the girl advice too.”

Smiling, Elia shrugged. “Just you,” he said simply, and it should have sounded more pathetic, but Elia didn’t really care that there was only Filippo. Even if this wasn’t supposed to be a big deal, even if it was just hanging out, making out, whatever. It was kind of nice, actually, knowing he could text Filippo whenever and it didn’t have to be a big thing.

Filippo’s eyes flicked to him, a crease of concern in his brows. “You know this doesn’t mean we’re together, right?”

“I know.” 

“Because I’ve already broken two of my rules for you,” Filippo said, and Elia couldn’t help smiling. He had?

“What rules?”

“One, no virgins,” Filippo said, and Elia smacked his shoulder.

“I’m not a virgin.”

Filippo ignored him. “And two, no being the first guy.”

Elia didn’t reply for a second, contemplating Filippo spread out on the bed next to him, sunlight climbing higher on the sheets as the sun set outside, a long line between them. He didn’t know why, but it made him glad to know Filippo had broken his own rules, like maybe Filippo did like him and not just as an occasional hook up.

“Well, you’re here, aren’t you?” he asked, arching an eyebrow. Filippo could have shoved him away that night at the club, told him it wasn’t going anywhere and they should stop right then. But he hadn’t. He’d smiled and said they were friends.

“ _You’re_ here,” Filippo pointed out, and Elia shrugged, rolling on top of Filippo and pulling at his shirt that he so unfairly still had on.

“Exactly,” he said. He was there, and so was Filippo, and no matter what Filippo said, that fact didn’t change. Even as Filippo shook his head, Elia didn’t let him, leaning in to kiss him, lingering against his lips before pulling back, breathing in deeply with his nose pressed to Filippo’s. “I’m ready to go again if you are.”

For a second, he thought Filippo might say no, might push him away and tell him find someone else, that he wasn’t going to break a third rule, whatever that might be. But Filippo didn’t, hands coming up to Elia’s waist instead.

“Why,” Filippo only said, more to himself than anything, and Elia didn’t get to ask what he meant as he rolled them over, Elia on his back, and kissed him again, swallowing Elia’s contented hum, and Elia smiled as he got his hands under Filippo’s shirt this time. It didn’t get much better than this.

*

“Losers buy the coffee,” Elia said as he scored a goal and Gio groaned across the foosball table.

“Marti, get your head in the game, bro,” he said, grabbing Martino by the back of his neck, and Martino ducked away.

The bar was fairly empty for a Friday afternoon, just a few girls at a table near the door, a couple guys at the counter.

“What are we doing tonight?” Luca asked as Gio reset the ball.

Elia twisted the handle, trapping the ball between his guy and Martino’s. He had no plans for tonight, although Filippo had said he was going out to the club tomorrow and Elia could come if he wanted. Elia had taken that as an invitation to make out on the dance floor when he’d said he would. He smiled to himself at the thought.

Gio nodded at Elia. “Now that everybody in the group is taken, what is there to do?”

“Fuck off,” Elia said, rolling his eyes and slamming his controller down to dislodge the ball that Martino was holding hostage. He was not taken.

“What?” Luca asked from beside Elia, and Elia didn’t notice, triumphant as he got the ball loose.

“Yeah, you’re gonna ditch us again for the mystery man, right?” Martino asked, the little shit, grinning at Elia.

“I didn’t ditch you,” Elia argued, kicking the ball down the table where Gio stopped it from going in the goal. He wasn’t that guy, the one who abandoned his friends just for a piece of ass. At least he didn’t think he was, but then again, if Filippo texted him right now that he was horny and waiting, Elia wasn’t sure he’d stay to play foosball.

“Wait, guy?” Luca asked, turning to Elia and dropping his handles. “Are you gay too now?”

“Luchi!” Elia complained as Gio scored a goal, throwing up his hands as Gio laughed.

“Americano, black,” he said with a smug smile. “And a cappuccino for Marti.”

Annoyed, Elia grabbed Luchino’s arm and tugged him to the bar. “You’re assholes.”

At the counter, Elia sighed, turning to find Luca frowning at him.

“How are things going with Silvia?” he asked, but even that didn’t change how Luca was looking at him.

“What was Marti talking about?” Luca asked. “What guy?”

It hit Elia as he stood there, Luca’s eyebrows furrowed, as though his brain was working overtime, that he’d completely forgotten to tell Luca. It wasn’t that he’d forgotten necessarily, more like it hadn’t crossed his mind after he’d told Gio and Martino.

“Shit, Luchi,” he said slowly as Luca shook his head, putting things together, and Elia felt a twinge of guilt. “I meant to tell you.”

“You’re gay now?”

“Bi,” he corrected him gently.

“Oh, okay,” Luca said, nodding at the espresso machine. “So you have twice as many options now.” He said it with a small smile, but something was wrong. Elia could tell, watching Luca dig in his wallet for change as the barista came over.

It was rare that Luca was upset, and Elia frowned, the nag of guilt growing in his stomach as Luca paid for the coffees.

“I should have told you sooner,” he said after a minute. “You just weren’t there with Gio and Marti.”

Luca shook his head. “Yeah, yeah,” he agreed easily. “It’s cool.”

It couldn’t be about him being bi, Elia thought despite Luca’s assurance that he was fine. Luca didn’t care about Martino, and Elia had known, or thought, that he wouldn’t care about him either.

“Are you sad because you’re not on the top of anyone’s to-fuck list?” he asked, and Luca didn’t laugh, collecting the coffees the barista brought over.

It took a second, but Luca sighed finally. “I know I’m not as smart as you guys,” he said, and Elia wasn’t sure what this had to do with him being bi. “And I know I can be slow to catch on, but I’m not stupid.”

“No one said you were,” Elia assured him, confused as Luca twisted a cup between his fingers.

“I’m always the last to know everything,” Luca said with a shrug. “When Gio and Sofia got together, when Emma got bit by the mouse. Oh, why you didn’t want to hook up with Silvia.” His eyes widened as though he’d just realized, and Elia grimaced.

It wasn’t that he hadn’t meant to tell Luca, but he hadn’t been there at the time, and he’d gotten distracted with Filippo.

“Luchi, I—”

“No, no,” Luca interrupted, grabbing the coffee cups. “It’s not your fault. I should know this stuff about my best friend. I should be paying more attention. I should be a better friend.”

Elia didn’t know what to say, and he felt bad as he thought that Luca was right. He was often the last to know, but not because they didn’t want to tell him. Luca was in a different class, and they didn’t always see him at breaks, didn’t sit next to him all day where it was easy to talk and forget that he hadn’t been there.

“You’re a great f—”

“What is taking you guys so long?” Gio interrupted as he appeared over Luca’s shoulder. “It’s probably cold by now.”

“Sorry,” Luca said, handing Gio his cup. “I got the new FIFA game if you guys want to come over later.”

“Nico and I were going to hang out,” Martino said, grabbing his coffee from the counter, and Elia was still watching Luca, who shrugged at Martino.

“Bring him. My mom will order pizza.”

“You’re too good for us, Luchi,” Gio said, ruffling Luca’s hair, and Elia caught the way Luca’s smile was a bit reluctant, as though he didn’t believe Gio.

He couldn’t help the sinking feeling in his stomach as they drank their coffee and Martino teased Gio for his low score. Luca listened attentively and Elia slumped back against the counter—this wasn’t how he’d pictured it going with Luca, and if he was honest, he hadn’t really thought much about it, which was probably the worst bit of all. 

*

Elia was supposed to be having fun, leaning against the bar and sipping his beer. He was supposed to be enjoying the fact that Filippo had greeted him with a kiss on the cheek and a pat on his ass before heading for the bar. 

“What’s with the face, my dear?” Filippo asked as he slid in next to Elia.

“No face,” Elia replied, putting on a smile and watching the way Filippo tossed back his drink. 

The club lights flashed all around them, some synth-pop music rattling glasses on the shelf behind the bar. Elia couldn’t help noticing the way Filippo’s hip pressed to his. He wondered if Filippo noticed, if he cared. 

“You are a terrible liar,” Filippo said, eyeing some guy on the dance floor. Elia frowned. 

“I forgot to come out to Luca and I think he’s upset.”

“You forgot?” Filippo’s eyebrow went up. “So he’s upset because you didn’t tell him? It’s not about him.”

Elia took a long swig of his beer, wiping his mouth and wishing they didn’t have to do this, that he didn’t have to think about what a terrible friend he was.

“I left him out.”

“It wasn’t on purpose,” Filippo assured him as though he knew Luca at all. “Coming out is different for everyone.”

Elia didn’t feel much better. It wasn’t about coming out, not really. Luca had been right—he was always a little behind the curve and Elia hadn’t helped at all. 

“I don’t want to think about it,” he said finally, shaking his head. Turning to the bar, he set his beer down and flashed Filippo a smile. “You want to dance?”

“Maybe later,” Filippo said, tearing his gaze from Elia and back to the dance floor. Some blond guy seemed to be eye-fucking Filippo from the crowd and Elia felt a ripple of annoyance.

“Do my eyes deceive me?” Dante bounced through the crowd, enveloping Filippo in a hug. “It’s been a hot minute since you were here. There must be dozens of new specimens to choose from.”

“I see that,” Filippo replied, and Elia didn’t follow Filippo’s gaze across the dance floor. There was a pit forming in his stomach and he didn’t want to think why. 

“And you brought the protégé,” Dante said, nodding in greeting to Elia. “Ready for that dance yet?”

“Maybe later,” he said, echoing Filippo’s words from earlier.

“Don’t tell me you’re already taken,” Dante said, sidling up next to Elia. “The cute ones always go so fast.”

“He’s not a cookie,” Filippo said, but when Elia glanced over, Filippo’s eyes were on a guy with brown curls, increasingly interested, and it made Elia frown.

“But he is a snack,” Dante replied with a cheeky grin. “At least let me buy you a drink.”

Elia hesitated, glancing at Filippo, who wasn’t paying him any attention now, checking out the brown-haired guy, and Elia caught the gaze they exchanged, a clear invitation that made his stomach clench, unexpected. He could feel the annoyance rising in the back of his throat, the way it gripped him tight as Filippo pushed himself up from the bar.

“Go on and have fun, Elia,” he said, nodding vaguely at Dante. “I’ll be back.”

Elia opened his mouth but nothing came out as Filippo stepped away from them, welcomed into the fold of the dance floor and the guy smirking at him as Filippo stepped into his sway.

“What are you drinking?” Dante asked, and Elia couldn’t respond, a hot stab of something painfully angry deep in his gut as he watched Filippo slide his hands around the other guy’s waist.

Elia couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight, even though he knew he should. He _knew_ he shouldn’t care, that Filippo could dance with whoever he wanted, kiss whoever he wanted, slide his hand up a stranger’s back in a way that made his stomach curl, jealousy rising in his throat. It squeezed his lungs as he stood there, watching Filippo dancing with the guy, their hips moving together, the way Filippo laughed, head thrown back.

He wanted that. He wanted Filippo dragging him to the dance floor, pulling him in closer by the neck, the way Nico did to Martino at parties. The thought shook him—he wanted to be Nico and Martino. Well, not exactly, but he wanted Filippo all to himself, to hook up and know there was no one else. 

It didn’t have to be serious, not a relationship or anything, but he wanted it to be _something_.

The realization hit him like a train as he stood there, surrounded by hot guys, under the multicolored lights, the air thick with sweat and alcohol. _Fuck_.

Elia jumped at Dante’s nudge, breaking him from his thoughts. Beside him, Dante wore an expression Elia couldn’t quite place, almost pity, blue eyes narrowed, mouth twisted.

“You’re young,” Dante said, and Elia furrowed his eyebrows. “You’re cute. There will be plenty of guys.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Elia said, reaching for his beer, but it was empty. He’d forgotten.

“You like Fili,” Dante said simply, following Elia’s gaze out to where Filippo was wrapped up in the guy now, a heat in his gaze that Elia had seen before directed at him. “Understandable. But Filippo isn’t really the dating type.”

“I know.” Elia scoffed, annoyed. Everyone seemed to bring it up, as though Filippo hadn’t told him himself, as though he hadn’t known it from the start. “Who said I wanted to?”

“The expression on your face,” Dante said, tapping Elia’s cheek, and Elia jerked away. “You want to murder that guy.”

Elia tore his eyes away from Filippo finally, huffing as he turned to the bar. “I’m not jealous,” he lied.

“Sure, you’re not,” Dante agreed, as though they both knew the truth. “You know, the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.” He winked at Elia, who felt his stomach turn over.

“I should be getting home,” he said instead, pushing away from the bar. “It’s late.”

Dante tilted his head to the side. “I’ll tell Fili you left.”

“No, don’t tell him anything,” Elia said, casting one last look at Filippo on the dance floor before leaving. He turned away sharply as the brown-haired guy leaned in to kiss him. As he weaved through the crowd, he couldn’t help hating the feeling welling up in his gut, anger and jealousy and hurt all at once.

He’d never felt jealousy like this, so powerful that it made him want to break something or punch someone or curl up in a ball. It felt hot in his chest, heart pounding as he burst out the club door into the warm evening air, not cold enough to soothe the anger boiling up inside him.

Standing in the alley, Elia sighed. He was fucked. Completely and totally fucked.

*

“Shouldn’t you be off with your friends doing something stupid?”

Sighing, Elia dropped his phone in his lap, not bothering to close out of Filippo’s messages. There was nothing new there, no texts asking where he’d disappeared to last night, no messages inviting him over to watch yet another romantic comedy. He hadn’t expected there to be, but still he’d hoped.

“Go away, Cami,” he said, watching her in the doorway, flipping her long hair over her shoulder.

Camilla didn’t leave, perching against the frame and inspecting her chipped red nail polish. “She’s really done a number on you, hasn’t she?”

Elia shouldn’t have asked, but he was too tired to get in a fight right now. “Who?”

“Whatever girl has you sneaking out lately.”

Rolling his eyes, Elia shoved the pillow behind his back, bunching it up against the headboard. “Whatever.”

“Not even arguing,” she said curiously. “Must be serious.”

Throwing a pillow at her, she ducked easily and it hit the wall. The last thing he wanted to do was talk about girls, or otherwise, with his sister. “Why are you in here?”

She shrugged. “Bored.”

“Go be bored somewhere else,” he said, grabbing his phone again even though there were no new messages except one from Martino asking if they were going to study for the math exam tomorrow.

He shouldn’t have been thinking about Filippo, hoping he would text, hoping he would care that Elia had left early last night, hadn’t even had a second beer. It was so pathetic, he thought as he frowned at Camilla in his doorway, the way she picked at his _Spectre_ movie poster, the corner peeling from the wall.

Camilla didn’t leave and he groaned as he tossed the phone away.

“What?” he demanded.

She tilted her head to the side. “I’ve never seen you like this.”

“Like what?” He shouldn’t have even asked. He should have gotten up and shoved her out the door so he could be alone with his idiotic thoughts about Filippo and how much he wished they were together right now, thoughts that Filippo was probably just now waking up to a stranger in his bed and how much he hated that idea.

“Brooding,” she said, and Elia scowled.

“I’m not brooding.”

“You’re certainly not doing anything else,” she said, raising her eyebrows.

“It’s Sunday, the day of rest,” he replied, annoyed. It was bad enough that she had to notice something was different, but did she really have to talk about it? If Elia had his way, he’d shove these feelings aside and never bring them up again. He’d force himself to accept that Filippo wasn’t his, that he could kiss whoever he wanted and ignore the fact that it wasn’t at all what Elia wanted.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked, and Elia stared at her.

“No!”

Rolling her eyes, she pushed off the door frame. “Fine. Be a boy and keep it all inside until you explode. You’re so annoying.”

“Right back at you,” Elia sneered as she shut the door a little too hard behind her. Sighing, he slumped down on the bed. He would keep it inside, where it belonged.

*

It was harder than Elia thought, keeping his feelings smushed deep down inside his chest, especially when faced with Nico and Martino and the way they looked at each other, complete with heart eyes and something that made Elia’s chest ache with desire and annoyance.

“Are we going to my place?” Luca asked as Elia blinked away from where Nico and Martino were standing too close together against the wall. “To study?”

“We have to wait for Gio,” Martino said. “He said he had to talk to Sofia about something.”

Elia watched Luca nod, and he didn’t say anything. He still hadn’t figured out how to fix things with Luca, not that Luca acted as if anything needed to be fixed. If anything, Luca had been more attentive than ever, as if trying to prove he was a good friend who paid attention. Elia hated that he’d done that, made Luca think that with his afterthought of telling him.

“Speaking of,” Nico said, leaning around Martino and grinning at Luca. “How’s Silvia? I hear you shared a dance.”

Luca blushed, grinning at the ground. “We did, but I don’t know what’s going on.”

“Have you talked to her?”

“Not really,” Luca admitted, and Nico nodded knowingly.

“You should talk to her,” he said, setting his hand on Martino’s shoulder. “Find out where she stands.”

“What if she doesn’t like me?” Luca sounded concerned, shifting his backpack higher. Elia frowned, wishing he had any advice to share, but he was probably the worst person to give advice in this situation. It was the same fear he had with Filippo.

“Then there are lots of other girls out there,” Nico said gently. “Girls who will like you back.”

“But they’re not Silvia.”

Nico smiled. “Talk to her first before you give up completely.”

“Yeah,” Luca agreed after a minute, bobbing his head, and Elia looked away as Nico’s gaze moved to him.

“Hey, sorry, I’m late.” Gio arrived, saving Elia from thinking too much about Nico’s words. “We ready?”

“I hate math,” Martino muttered as they stepped away from the wall, and Elia’s stomach twisted as he watched Nico lean into Martino’s neck, placing a quick kiss there before moving away.

“We know,” Nico said with a grin.

Falling to the side of the group, Elia said nothing as they headed for Luca’s house, but the last thing he was thinking about was the math exam.

*

Elia ran his fingers over the bruises on his hips, the angry fingernail scrapes on his thigh, raising his gaze to Filippo lying next to him, across the foot of the bed, covers pushed aside, pillows fallen on the floor. Filippo had his eyes closed, dust filtering through the late afternoon sunlight, the sky turning orange outside.

Filippo hadn’t said anything about the other night, the club, Elia leaving. He’d simply texted that Eleonora wasn’t home and Elia should come over. Elia had thought about saying no, saying he was busy, but the truth was he wanted to see Filippo.

Now, they lay side by side as the sun set outside, casting shadows on the walls, and Elia took the time to admire Filippo’s face—his dark eyebrows, soft, pouted lips, the ring traded out for a barbell that made Elia think of Filippo’s mouth around his cock, like it just had been a few minutes ago.

“What are you looking at?” Filippo didn’t open his eyes, and Elia bit his lip as he rolled onto his side to face him.

“Filo,” he said and Filippo hummed in response. “Did you sleep with that guy the other night?”

Filippo’s eyes opened finally, eyebrows scrunching as he smiled slightly. “What?”

“That guy from the club,” Elia said, his heart beating faster as he did. “The one you were dancing with.”

“What does that matter?” Filippo tilted his head to look at Elia, as though he didn’t understand why Elia would even ask.

“It doesn’t,” Elia muttered, “not really.” He wasn’t even sure what he was trying to say here, and Filippo frowning at him certainly didn’t help. They weren’t wearing enough clothes for this discussion, but that didn’t stop him. “I kind of didn’t like it.”

Filippo’s eyebrow went up, surprised, and he didn’t say anything for a moment. “You didn’t like it,” he repeated finally, and Elia sighed.

He hated this, talking about his feelings, admitting that he had them at all. “I didn’t like you dancing with another guy.”

“You were jealous,” Filippo said simply, forehead scrunched as he watched Elia. “Elia, we’re not together.”

“I know!” Elia said, shaking his head and huffing. “I know. Everyone keeps reminding me. We’re not together. We’re not dating. You can fuck whoever you want.”

“Exactly.” Filippo was still watching him, a hint of concern in his gaze now, and Elia didn’t like this feeling, the way his stomach rolled around, tensing and curling like snakes had made a nest inside it.

“Yeah, well, I don’t want you to,” he said, the words spilling out before he could stop them, grimacing as Filippo stared at him, a sudden guard coming up as they lay there. It was hard to believe that not five minutes ago, Elia had been moaning Filippo’s name, fingers digging into the sheets, and now it felt like they were miles apart.

“Elia,” Filippo said slowly, almost warning, and Elia pushed himself up onto his elbow.

“I know what you said,” he said simply. “You don’t date or have relationships, and you didn’t want to be my first guy, but you were. And I’m not some virgin falling in love with you. I like you and I thought you liked me too.”

Filippo sighed, as though Elia was being exhausting, closing his eyes for a long moment. “I do like you,” he said when he opened them. “But you knew from the beginning this wasn’t going anywhere. I don’t know how much clearer I could have been.”

“But why?” Elia asked, watching Filippo sit up, chin tucked against his chest. “We don’t have to be like Marti and Nico.”

They didn’t have to spend every second together, be disgustingly cute around their friends, talk about moving in together and going to college together. They didn’t have to hold hands or go to Pride together or do any of those typical dating things. Elia wasn’t any good at that anyway.

“Because relationships are messy,” Filippo said, a hard edge to his voice that Elia had never heard before, and his stomach sank like a rock. “They never work and everybody ends up hurt. Why put the pressure on yourself when you could just have fun?”

“I just don’t want you to make out with other people. Is that so hard?”

“It’s the start,” Filippo said sharply. “The beginning of the end. Look, Elia, it’s not going to happen.”

Staring at Filippo, Elia felt his heart crumple at his words, so blunt, so harsh. Filippo didn’t meet his gaze this time, looking out the door at the empty hallway. It wasn’t like Elia was proposing marriage. He was just asking for a promise that if they went to a club, Filippo would only want him.

“You won’t even consider it,” he said, staring at Filippo. “What are you so afraid of?” 

Filippo paused, mouth a hard line now, and Elia felt his stomach sinking. 

“You don’t get to be angry,” he said finally, turning to face Elia. “You don’t get to be angry at me when I told you outright what not to expect.”

Elia stared for a second before rolling out of bed, searching the floor for his shirt as anger welled in his chest. “Fine, you’re right. You told me and I didn’t listen. I brought this on myself. So go fuck whoever you want and don’t worry about me.” Yanking on his jeans, he glared at the back of Filippo’s neck, the way he didn’t look him in the eye. His heart thudded in his ribcage, a lump welling up in his throat when Filippo’s eyes darted to him.

“Elia,” he said, as though maybe he was going to say something to make it sting a little less, as though there was an explanation for how stubborn he was being, but unless it included him changing his mind, Elia didn’t want to be consoled.

“Go be _friends_ with someone else,” Elia snapped instead. Zipping up his jeans, he grabbed his shoes from the floor, stalking from the room. Filippo didn’t stop him, and he hadn’t expected him to, but he’d half-hoped maybe he would.

_You’re a dumbass_ , the voice in his head said as Elia reached the front door and left the apartment, pausing to get his shoes on in the hall. _Expecting something you knew he wouldn’t give you. It’s your own fault._

Shaking himself, Elia glanced back at the door. Filippo was right. He had no right to be angry, no right to feel this way, but he did. He wasn’t sure how he’d gotten himself into this mess. How had he fallen for Filippo? Since when did he want to date anyone? It didn’t matter how it had happened, he thought as he dragged himself away from the door. It had and now he was just another idiot, another notch in Filippo’s bedpost, and he’d never get what he wanted.

Swallowing down the disappointment, Elia left the apartment. He was just another idiot.

*

There had been girls, girls Elia had liked, even girls he’d maybe wanted to date, but none had left him like this. He couldn’t get Filippo out of his head, always hoping his phone would ring and it might be him saying he’d made a mistake. But it never did.

He knew he was acting strange and that even Luca had noticed he wasn’t his usual annoying self, but none of them said anything. Instead, they stuck to topics like school and Luca’s very slow progress with Silvia, and he was grateful. He wasn’t sure what he had to say about the whole situation anyway, without admitting that he’d made a total mess of it.

Kicking the football against the wall, Elia sighed, annoyed at the birds twittering in the trees. It rolled back to him and he kicked it again.

“Hey.”

A voice interrupted the birds and Elia looked over as Luca entered the square.

“Hey,” he greeted him easily, and Luca looked around.

“Am I early?”

“Possibly for the first time ever.” Elia smiled as Luca looked surprised.

“I feel like I should go back to my house and wait ten minutes.”

“No, Luchi, hang out here.”

Luca shrugged, swinging his arms slightly as they stood there, and it shouldn’t have been awkward.

“So how’s, uh, being bi?” Luca asked after a minute, smiling apprehensively at Elia as though he wasn’t sure if he should ask. “Lots of people to date?”

“Not really,” he admitted, rolling the ball under his foot. There was only one and he didn’t want Elia.

“Didn’t the guys say you were, I don’t know, hanging out with someone?” Luca asked easily, not prying, and Elia sighed.

“Yeah. It’s not going to work out.”

“Oh.” Luca paused. “Why not?”

“Because he doesn’t want to date anyone,” Elia said, glancing at Luca, who nodded slowly. He hadn’t said this out loud to anyone, ever. He’d never admitted to liking someone like this, not just a crush or someone he wanted to hook up with. It felt strange. “We were hooking up for a while and it was great, but, I don’t know, I wanted more than just being a hookup.”

Luca’s eyebrows went up as Elia spoke. “Wow.”

Rolling his eyes, Elia huffed. “Yeah. I can’t believe I turned into such a girl.”

“That’s not a girl thing,” Luca said, and Elia frowned at him. “I don’t want to just hook up with Silvia. Marti didn’t want to with Nico.”

“But I’m not Martino,” Elia said with a sigh, throwing up his hands. “I don’t need romantic dinners and love letters and whatever the fuck they do.”

Luca nodded. “You just want to be with him.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Elia admitted, and he wondered where Luca pulled this out from. How could he be so smart and so oblivious at the same time? “But he doesn’t do that, so.”

Luca was silent for a moment and the birds filled the air again, annoyingly cheery.

“Sorry,” Luca said, and Elia shook his head.

“I’ll get over it,” he said, trying to sound like his usual self, overly confident, even if he felt like curling up into a ball. “Like Nico said, there are plenty of other people out there.”

“But there’s only one of this guy.”

Elia fell silent, rolling the ball back and forth. Gio and Martino still weren’t there, and he didn’t feel much like playing anyway.

Luca swung his arms again, probably searching for a story to tell.

“It’s Filippo,” Elia said before Luca could go off on a tangent. Luca blinked in surprise.

“Eleonora’s brother?”

Elia nodded, watching Luca carefully. “I haven’t told anyone else.”

Luca smiled slightly. “You should. They’d want to know.”

He felt minutely better as he grabbed Luca by the neck and ruffled his hair. “Let’s play some one-on-one until Marti and Gio get their asses here, huh?”

“Sure,” Luca agreed, and Elia passed him the ball, determined not to think about Filippo for at least the next few hours.

*

It had been a week, a whole week since Elia had last seen Filippo. In the grand scheme of things, a week wasn’t very long, but it felt like eternity to Elia. How had he spent his time before? Not waiting for texts that would never come. Every time his phone vibrated, he pulled it out eagerly, only to be disappointed by reminders from the carrier about how much money he had left.

The last message had been from Camilla, passing off her chores on him—to pick up tomatoes before he came home. Rolling his eyes, he tucked away the phone and headed down the hall towards the front doors. Outside, it was one of those insanely bright spring days, not a cloud in the sky, and only a light breeze rustling the trees out front of the school.

Gio, Martino, and Luca were already standing around by the gate, waiting to go to lunch, and Elia headed for them.

He was stopped by Eleonora, her slightly awkward wave as she approached him, stopped him from meeting the guys.

He couldn’t remember Eleonora ever speaking to him at school, and certainly not in front of people. No one was paying them any attention, though he could see Martino frowning behind her.

“Hey,” she greeted him easily, like they did this all the time. “I haven’t seen you around lately.”

Elia frowned. “I’m here every day.”

She rolled her eyes, so similar to Filippo, and he felt his heart clench. God, what was wrong with him? “You know what I mean.”

He shrugged, and now all the guys were watching from the gate. “Not really.”

She didn’t look amused, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Well, Filo’s been acting weird all week and he won’t say why.”

Hope sparked in Elia, unbidden, and he shoved it back down. It couldn’t be what he was thinking. Maybe Filippo was just finally sleeping with all the guys he’d missed out on while trying to help Elia. If Filippo actually cared about him, he would have said something.

Elia glanced around, lowering his voice. “We’re not together. He made it perfectly clear that he doesn’t want anything from me, so if you want to know what’s wrong with him, I suggest asking him.”

Eleonora opened her mouth to say something, but in the end, she shut it, narrowing her eyes instead as Elia huffed.

“Just forget about it,” he said firmly. “He probably already has.”

He didn’t wait for her to respond, darting around her instead and heading for the boys. Filippo acting weird could be anything. It could have nothing to do with him, and it wasn’t fair to get his hopes up when he knew it wouldn’t happen. He just had to forget about Filippo once and for all.

*

Elia had homework. He had tests to study for and essays to write, but he put it off, wandering into the kitchen and searching for something to eat instead. The house was silent for once, with his mom gone to some meeting and his sister shut in her room. 

There was food in the cupboards, but everything he had to cook, and Elia just didn’t feel like it. Staring into the fridge, he sighed. He wasn’t even sure if he was hungry or bored. There were messages on his phone from the guys, asking if they were going to the party tonight. Some party where there would be lots of beer and girls and other things Elia should have cared about.

The prospect of getting drunk and forgetting about his life was the only appealing part of that, but he hadn’t responded to the messages.

Elia looked up as he heard Camilla’s door open, her footsteps in the hall, entering the kitchen behind him.

“There’s nothing to eat,” she said, and he closed the fridge door with a sigh. Turning, he frowned at her outfit—skirt too tight for a Saturday night in.

“What are you wearing?” he asked, moving over to the cupboard again, even though he’d already looked there.

“I know what I want,” she said, and he frowned.

“Want?”

“For the favor you owe me,” she said simply, crossing her arms over her black tank top. “Remember?”

Groaning, Elia turned to her. He’d hoped that maybe she would forget about that. “What?”

“Take me to Edoardo Incanti’s party tonight.”

“God, why?” Elia demanded, making a face, staring at her. “If you are trying to hook up with Incanti, there’s no way—”

“No, idiot,” she said with a sneer, rolling her eyes. He didn’t think he warranted that. He knew enough about Incanti and the number of girls he slept with to know better than to let his sister spend any time around him. “Everybody knows Incanti throws the best parties, and I’m not going to just crash it. I know you can get me in.”

“Who said I was even going?” Elia asked, and Camilla stared at him.

“Since when do you not go to every party where there are girls and alcohol?”

Elia paused, frowning. He didn’t like the idea of this, especially not having to go to a party where he would be expected to drink and make out with someone and pretend he wouldn’t rather be watching Titanic for the third time with Filippo. He was pathetic, he thought as he shook his head and Camilla arched her eyebrows expectantly.

“I bring you to this party and we’re even,” he said simply, and she lit up, grinning.

“Even,” she assured him. “Now go change. You can’t go wearing that.”

Glancing down at his clothes, Elia didn’t groan as she flitted out of the kitchen. Maybe getting good and drunk wouldn’t be so bad. At least he wouldn’t be thinking about Filippo anymore. He couldn’t wait until it stopped hurting for good.

*

Camilla disappeared almost the moment they arrived, seeing some girl she knew and vanishing into the crowd as Elia yelled after her not to be an idiot.

“Siblings are the worst,” he said, and both Luca and Gio nodded in understanding. Martino just shrugged, taking Nico’s hand.

“Let’s find the alcohol. I’m sure Incanti has a great selection.”

Elia didn’t really care as long as it got him drunk, and he followed Nico and Martino into the expansive house, bathed in blue lights. There were too many rooms to count, a large open living room, and a kitchen stocked with so much beer, it wouldn’t fit in the fridge.

Elia watched as Nico made Martino a drink, pouring far too many different kinds of alcohol in a cup as Martino tried to stop him.

“Ni, no, stop!” Martino said, laughing as he tried to grab the bottle away from him. “You want to get drunk on one sip?”

Nico grinned at Martino, eyes shining. “It’s gonna be amazing.”

“It’s going to be disgusting, like your pasta,” Martino replied, shoving Nico’s hand away as he grabbed a different bottle.

“Be adventurous, Marti,” Nico said, sneaking in another splash of something else before Martino shoved him away. Instead, he leaned in and kissed Martino’s cheek easily. “Try that.”

Martino shot a look at Elia. “If I die, tell my mom it was by Nico’s hand.”

Elia nodded solemnly, but he felt a dull ache in his stomach as he watched Niccolò grin, Martino raising the cup reluctantly. It wasn’t that he wanted a relationship like theirs, but someone to joke with, someone to drag away when the party got boring and makeout with in a bathroom, someone who made his heart flutter like an idiot when he smiled, he’d like that.

Martino took a sip, grimacing and coughing a second later, blinking quickly as he sucked in a breath.

“Perfect,” he gasped and Nico laughed, hugging Martino’s shoulders. “Your turn.”

Nico took the cup, sniffing it first and make a face before he took a drink. He did better than Martino, but his face did turn red as he tried not to cough.

“Delicious,” he declared, and Martino shook his head. “Elia, you want a try?”

“Why not,” Elia said, taking the cup Nico offered. If it got him drunk and it got him drunk fast, he was all for it.

It burned going down, sharp and prickly somehow, and he felt his cheeks heating up the same as Niccolò’s.

“Christ,” he said, blinking and shaking his head. “You make a strong drink.”

Nico grinned. “You can keep it. I’ll just get a beer.”

“Asshole,” Martino said, but he didn’t push Nico away as Nico leaned in for a kiss. Elia looked away, taking another sip. It didn’t burn quite as much this time.

“I’m gonna find Luchi,” he said instead, leaving Martino and Nico in the kitchen and wandering into the living room, past couples dancing and making out. He supposed he could find someone—maybe that blonde girl was here somewhere, or the blue-haired girl he’d completely forgotten about. He supposed everyone else had fallen by the wayside when Filippo had been in the picture.

He hadn’t meant for it to happen, for Filippo to take over everything. Maybe if he’d had a better grip, he wouldn’t feel so terrible right now. Normally, he would have wanted to find someone to make out with, somebody to give him a rushed hand job in the bathroom while someone else pounded on the door. Normally, he would, but he just didn’t feel like doing anything except finishing whatever disgusting mix of alcohol Nico had put in this cup.

To Elia’s surprise, he found Luca easily, spotting him through the crowd talking with Silvia. She even looked like she was enjoying it, smiling at him and nodding along. Turning away, he looked for Gio instead, but he was making out with Sofia in a corner. He needed more friends. Maybe Peccio was around.

Taking another drink, Elia grimaced at the taste. He didn’t want to know where Camilla was.

Wandering outside, he passed a pool, a grove of orange trees until he sank down on a cement bench overlooking the garden. Incanti was definitely rich.

This was why relationships sucked, Elia decided as he sat alone, away from the party. Because they ended like this, with him not even interested in partying. Because Filippo was still stuck in his brain, the memory of him smiling at Elia, the first time he’d invited him out to take photographs, how he’d just let Elia talk and figure things out.

“This is the last place I thought you’d be.”

A familiar voice behind Elia made him turn, eyes falling on Filippo’s outline, backlit by lights from the house, shining through his pink hair.

Glancing down at the drink, Elia frowned. “I’ve only had one drink,” he said slowly. “I can’t be this drunk yet.”

“I don’t know if you are,” Filippo said, and Elia rose to his feet, facing Filippo.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, confused. He wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or something else that made his stomach churn as Filippo hesitated.

“Ele said you’d probably be here,” he said with a jerk of his head. “After the painful heart-to-heart she insisted on having far too early in the morning.”

Elia frowned. He had no idea what that meant or why Filippo would turn up at a high school party looking for him.

Filippo seemed to sigh, stepping closer to Elia. “I’m not good at relationships, Elia,” he said slowly. “I always screw it up or someone else does. Ele and I have had to be independent for so long that I just did whatever I wanted. There was no one to disappoint with my parents so wrapped up in their own problems. Ele took over the mom role and I didn’t see the point in not doing what I wanted which meant sleeping around and not being responsible to anyone.”

“So what?” Elia asked, frowning at Filippo in the moonlight. “Relationships are a responsibility?”

“Yeah, kind of,” Filippo allowed. “There’s trust and owning up to things you do and letting someone else in. I’m not good at that. I’m good at light and fluffy.”

Elia knew that. “So why are you here?” He didn’t need to hear Filippo’s excuses to move on. If that was the truth, there was no room for Elia in Filippo’s life.

Filippo took another step forward, close enough that Elia could see his face clearly. “Because this adorable, annoyingly charming, somewhat unsure, very good at blow jobs, guy said he liked me and he didn’t want to be one of the many.”

Staring, Elia didn’t know what to say. “I don’t want to you to be different,” he said finally, gazing at Filippo through the darkness. “I don’t want to be one of those weird couples. I just want to tell people we’re dating and drag you to movies where we make out the whole time, and when we go to clubs, I want to be the only one you want to go home with. We don’t have to do it the same way everyone else does.”

Filippo nodded slowly. “I don’t think we ever would.”

Elia wanted to smile, but he still wasn’t sure, wasn’t sure what this meant. He hated that he felt so unsure, that he even cared, but fuck it, he did care. He wanted to know what Filippo was thinking, if they could be together and not be weird.

“What do we do now then?” he asked, his heart thrumming as Filippo smiled, hands coming up to Elia’s neck.

“I can’t make any promises it’s going to work,” he said, and Elia nodded. “But when we’re at the club, I know I want to go home with you too.”

Elia felt his smile at Filippo’s words. It wasn’t perfect, but neither of them were. Hell, it might have been a terrible idea, him and Filippo, but he wanted to try.

It was a start, he thought as he kissed Filippo, falling into him and grinning as Filippo’s arms wrapped around his waist. It was definitely a start.

*

“So how many rules did you break?” Elia asked as they lay in the early morning sun filtering through the curtains, dim blue light washing over the bed, the covers kicked off, lying at the end.

Shifting, Filippo made a face as he thought, and Elia’s fingers stroked over the bruise on Filippo’s inner thigh, just below his lemon-patterned boxers, left over from last night.

“All of them,” Filippo admitted, arching an eyebrow at Elia, who grinned.

“But I’m worth it, right?”

Filippo paused, as though thinking, and Elia pinched his thigh. “Ow. Yeah, you’re worth it. You weaseled your way in somehow.”

“It’s the charm,” Elia said with a sigh, pressing his face against Filippo’s stubble, biting down gently on his jaw. 

He didn’t know how this was going to work, this thing with Filippo, if much would change except he would finally tell Gio and Martino and suffer their eyes popping out of their sockets, if they would hang out with the guys now and Elia would get to whisper all the things he wanted to do to Filippo in his ear, if they wouldn’t hide from Eleonora anymore. He smiled at the thought, lying next to Filippo. He didn’t know how it was going to work, but they were going to try anyway.

“Sure,” Filippo murmured, tilting Elia’s mouth to his for a lazy, open-mouthed kiss that Elia couldn’t help sighing into, his chest bursting with warmth.

On the pillow, his phone buzzed and Elia groaned, pushing himself up to check it.

_You owe me big time! Told mom you stayed at Gio’s last night_.

Grimacing, he tossed it back, sliding a hand over Filippo’s pink shirt, scrunching his fingers in the collar. “Sisters are the worst.”

“They’re not so bad,” Filippo said, grinning at Elia. “Eleonora always makes coffee.”

“I bought brioche too if you ever come out!” Eleonora’s voice came from down the hall and Elia couldn’t help laughing as Filippo sighed.

“You’re right,” he said, rolling into Elia and kissing him soundly. “Sisters are the worst.”

Elia just grinned, pulling Filippo back to his lips and kissing him one more time.

*

FIN.


End file.
